Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?
by Serpent of Slytherin
Summary: Sequel to Help! Eleven years after Oliver Wood saved Hermione and her daughter, Charlotte Wood has graduated from Hogwarts and has been drafted into the Quidditch league. So how does Draco Malfoy's son fit into the story?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot, a few characters, but sadly, everything else is Jo's.

**A.N. **Okay, so this started out as the epilogue for **Help**, but then it turned into the prologue for the sequel to **Help**. So here is the brand new, epic sequel. Hope you all enjoy! And when you're done, please review!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Prologue**

"Girls! Hurry! You're going to miss the train!"

Owing the fact that Oliver just _had_ to show Charlotte some last minute pointers for Quidditch before she went back to school, the Wood family had arrived at the train station incredibly late, and the final whistle was blowing to call the last minute stragglers aboard.

Hermione pulled Charlotte toward the train, glancing worriedly at the engine, hoping it wasn't about to start moving.

"Okay, have a good term, Charlie! We'll see you at Christmas! And remember, keep those grades up! And don't let your Head Girl duties overwhelm you, I know it can be difficult at times to keep up with everything like schoolwork and all the rest of it, but sweetie, you can do it, I did it when I was in seventh year and I just know-"

"Mum! I got it! I swear I'll be good, keep the grades up, and keep all the little toe rags in line like a good Head Girl. Belles! Come on! We're gonna miss the train!" Charlotte called to her younger sister, who was staring at the train with a mix of intense fear and interest.

Oliver knelt down next to his little girl. "Go with yer sister, Belle. I know yer scared, but yer sister's gonna be with yeh the whole year. Remember?"

The little girl's dark brown eyes looked into her father's own dark brown eyes. His eyes were her eyes. But her hair was her mother's. Unruly and wavy and almost ridiculously unmanagable.

"Daddy, I'm scared," she almost whimpered.

"I know. But me and Mum will write to yeh every day if it'll make yeh feel better. And yeh can write us too. Okay?"

Belle nodded, and threw her arms around her father's neck. "I love you, Daddy."

Oliver hugged her back and cast a look up at his wife. Hermione smiled at the scene and felt her heart clench with love and loss. Her little girl was leaving her and Oliver for the first time to go to Hogwarts. Hermione didn't want to let go, but she had to. Just like she had to learn to let go of Charlotte, who was eagerly awaiting the Quidditch scouts to be attending the matches at school this year. There was a good chance that she was going to get drafted to one of the pro teams, and Hermione knew that if she was, she would have to leave home.

The train started to inch forward.

"Belle!" Charlotte cried, grabbing her little sister's hand and dragging her to the train.

Oliver hoisted their trunks onto the train once they had climbed aboard.

"Love yeh both! We'll see you soon!" he called, waving as the train picked up speed and pulled away from the station.

Belle watched with a mildly horrified look as her parents sped away from her, then disappeared from sight when the train rounded a turn.

Hermione watched with an equally horrified expression as the train vanished from sight. Oliver understood her feeling of loss as their baby was carried away from them, and he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.

"There, there, lass, it's gonna be all right. We'll see them again at Christmas time. And yeh know yer gonna write to them both every day."

Hermione smiled a watery smile up at him. "I know. I had almost forgotten how awful it felt to have your babies leave home. Remember the first time with Charlotte?"

Oliver remembered vividly. Charlotte's first train ride had been a disaster for Hermione, who had ended up sobbing like a baby once Charlotte had boarded the train. It had been so hard for Hermione to let go of her baby, considering everything that they both went through together, and had survived. Hermione had fought so fiercely to protect Charlotte when they were with Matt, and Hermione felt that Charlotte was incredibly vulnerable outside her realm of protection with both her and Oliver.

Oliver hugged her tightly. "It's gonna be all right. And think of it, lass, we've got the house all to ourselves now for almost three months."

Hermione laughed at the suggestive look on his face and swatted his arm playfully.

"You, Mr. Wood, need to extract your head from that dirty gutter it's in."

Rhianna and Charlie wandered over. They too, had just sent off their first child on the train. Rhianna seemed to be handling it quite well. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she was carrying another child in her arms, a little boy by the name of Aidan.

"How yeh holdin' up there, Hermione?" Rhianna asked over Aidan's curly red hair.

Hermione shrugged, reaching up to stroke Aidan's soft curls. "I'm doing all right. It's always hard to let them go. How about you? Was Mackenzie scared to death to get on the train?"

Charlie laughed. "Oh no, she's a fearless one, she is. She takes after her mother. And I'm sure you know just how fearless she can be."

Rhianna dug her elbow into Charlie's ribs and smiled sweetly. "Of course she's fearless. She's a Wood at heart. And we Woods are made of tough stuff. Right Ollie?"

"Got that right," Oliver said proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Besides, she knows that she'll find Belles on the train. They're inseparable, you know that," Charlie reassured Hermione.

"You're right. I'm just being silly, that's all."

Hermione reasoned with herself later that sending her youngest daughter off to Hogwarts for the first time was a walk in the park compared to everything else that she had faced in her life. Then again, she wouldn't have little Belle to worry about if she hadn't reunited with Oliver in the first place.

Hermione remembered the joy of having Oliver in her life and his proposal, just the night after Matt had died. Matt's death had been bittersweet for Hermione; sure, she was glad that she no longer had to put up with the abuse and the yelling, but he was the man she had fallen in love with and married, and then, he was dead.

But Oliver was there when she needed him most. They enjoyed a short engagement, about two months, and then they couldn't wait any longer. And neither could Rhianna and Charlie. So, in a double ceremony, the two couples exchanged vows to be with each other until "death do us part." And this time, Hermione knew the man standing across from her at the altar meant what he said.

Not long after they were married, Hermione and Oliver discovered with joy that Hermione was going to have a baby. Oliver was nearly beside himself with pride; he loved Charlotte as his own, but now, he had actually created another life. And nothing could make him happier.

Charlotte was just as equally happy. She had always wanted a little brother or sister, and when Belle was born, she took up a fierce responsibility for her little sister. She was overprotective to the extreme, always going wherever little Belle was tottering off to, rescuing her from peril, being the big sister she knew she could be.

And now that Belle was off to Hogwarts with Charlotte, Charlotte's sense of responsibility doubled, what with her new Head Girl duties and all. She would make sure to keep an extra eye out for her little sister, and make sure that she stayed out of trouble, and found all the secret passageways in the castle.

Oliver and Charlie were discussing the possibility of Charlotte getting drafted by a pro league after she graduated Hogwarts this year. Rhianna and Hermione rolled their eyes and giggled.

"I think this is what they mean when they say that parents live vicariously through their children," Hermione commented, listening to the men banter as they walked through the Muggle train station.

"What do yeh expect? Oliver retired too soon after that Bludger accident pretty much ruined what career he had left. He misses it, yeh know. He just wants to make sure that his oldest girl gets the right deal and gets treated fairly."

Hermione nodded. She knew how much Oliver missed playing Quidditch. His accident happened shortly after Belle was born. It was a fierce match; Puddlemere versus the Holyhead Harpies, and both sides were ruthless against one another. Oliver had just made a spectacular save against the Harpies, and in retaliation, one of the Harpies' Beaters slammed a Bludger in Oliver's direction. Oliver, not paying attention due to the fact that he was gloating over his save, caught the full brunt of the Bludger in the shoulder, and his rotator cuff had shattered, almost to the point where the Healers at St. Mungo's couldn't fix it. They had managed in the end, but told him that his Quidditch days were over.

Those weeks after he had been forced to give up his second love of his life were awful. Hermione did everything in her power to keep him happy, and keep his mind of the game he loved so much. She put so much energy into forcing him to interact with Belle, who was only a few months old at the time, to make sure that he got to be the true father he had always wanted to be. Sure, those days and weeks were rough, but they had weathered them out, and stuck together, through thick and thin, just like they promised each other they would.

* * *

Back on the train, Belle and Mackenzie had finally caught up with one another, and were now talking with great enthusiasm about which house they would be sorted into.

"No question about it, it's got to be Gryffindor," Belle was saying. "Mum and Dad were both in it, so it can't be any other way. And Charlie's in it too. How can I not be in the same House as my sister? Oh, no, Mack, you don't think that I'll get separated from her, do you? And what if you and me aren't in the same house? Oh no. . ."

Mackenzie put a hand on her best friend's shoulder. "Calm down, Belles, it's gonna be okay. Even if we aren't in the same House, we'll still be friends. It's not the end of the world. And even if you don't get into Gryffindor with Charlie, you're still gonna be fine. Hopefully, if you aren't with Charlie, you'll get with me, and then you won't feel so alone. You'll still have one of us."

Belle heaved a huge sigh. "I hope so, Mack, I really hope so."

Meanwhile, Charlotte had just arrived in the Head's compartment to receive her instructions on her Head Girl duties. Minerva McGonagall was still Headmistress of the school, and was there in the compartment to congratulate the new Head Boy and Girl, and to hand out instructions to the Heads and to the new prefects.

Minerva was struck by Charlotte's likeness to her mother the moment the girl walked into the compartment. Charlotte looked just like Hermione did at seventeen; her hair had finally stopped being so disagreeable and flowed gracefully down her back in shiny chestnut waves. Her golden eyes sparkled with life that Hermione had feared would never return to her little girl.

Minerva held out her hand to Charlotte once she had greeted her Headmistress.

"Miss Wood, it's a pleasure to see you again. I trust your summer went well?"

"I spent most of the summer training with Dad, and you know I wouldn't have it any other way," Charlotte grinned as she shook McGonagall's hand.

Minerva looked over the top of her spectacles at her favorite student. "Let's hope that all that training comes in handy this year. I've become very accustomed to the Gryffindor winning streak, you know."

Charlotte looked down at her shiny Captain's badge, just underneath her new Head Girl badge. She'd been made captain in sixth year, the same year that Oliver became captain, and the same year that Harry Potter had been made captain, as her mother told her with tears in her eyes when she saw the new badge.

The compartment door slid open again, this time to reveal the new Head Boy. Charlotte's warm eyes instantly hardened, and the smile on her face slid off faster than Stinksap.

The boy, no, more like a man, walked into the compartment, his step more like a swagger, and his eyes as cold as Charlotte's had become. His blonde hair was shaggy and in his eyes, though quite attractively so. He stood about a head taller than Charlotte, quite a feat, as she was bordering close to five feet ten inches.

Charlotte loathed him on principle. She knew who he was, what he came from. She knew who his father was, though she had never met him. Her mother had told her the stories, and shown her pictures from the Daily Prophet, the first pictures of his capture, then the later ones of his sworn allegiance to the Ministry, and a renouncing of his old ways.

Of course, as life would have it, the one person that she vowed to loathe with an undying passion had to be brutally handsome. She inwardly groaned as she kept up her glare in his direction.

Derek Malfoy returned her glare with interest. Normally she just ignored him. This was something new. And he welcomed it greatly. He'd only been trying to break through that cold front for the past two years, something she was resisting with great force.

"Well, now that the two Heads are here," McGonagall spoke up, breaking the icy silence.

Charlotte was acutely aware of how close Derek was standing behind her. She could almost feel his warmth on her arms.

She twitched irritably when he touched her on the shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie, and awakening her to the look that Minerva was giving her.

"I'm sure we'll get along just fine this year, Professor. Won't we, Charlotte?" he asked sweetly.

She closed her eyes briefly. 'I'm a nice person, I'm a nice person,' she repeated to herself.

"Of course we will, Professor, you don't have to worry about us!"

As soon as Minverva dismissed them, Charlotte spun around and left the compartment as quickly as she could. She barely got five steps in, however, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She stopped, closed her eyes to find some patience, and then turned around.

Of course it had to be him. Who else could possibly put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, when any of her other friends would have yelled her name? She looked up at him, keeping her calm.

"Yes, Derek?"

"So, it's us this year, I guess."

'Good job genius,' she thought. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Should be interesting, sharing a dormitory," he said with a sly smirk.

Charlotte inwardly groaned and felt her stomach drop out. 'No, no, no, no, no! Why me? I don't want to share a dorm with a boy! Not him! Argh!'

"Hmm. Yeah, I suppose it will. Well, I have to get going, Derek, so if you'll excuse me. . ." she trailed off and spun around, taking off as fast as possible without looking too obvious to find Belle.

Derek watched her flee with an unreadable expression on his face. 'I am a Malfoy,' he thought. 'This _will_ work.'

Charlotte found Belle sharing a compartment with Mackenzie. Both girls grinned when she walked in.

"You look flushed. What's the matter, Charlie?" Belle inquired.

"Head Girl duties getting to you already?" Mackenzie asked slyly.

"Arggggh!" Charlotte groaned.

Both younger girls exchanged looks.

"Was it him?" Belle asked sympathetically.

Charlotte ran an annoyed hand through her hair. "Exactly."

Belle giggled. "I don't get why you hate him."

"I don't understand why you don't understand me!" Charlotte exclaimed. "Has Mum not told you the stories of who his father is?"

Belle looked puzzled. "No."

"He was a Death Eater!" Charlotte nearly shouted.

Mackenzie and Belle looked slightly taken aback.

"But," Mackenzie said slowly, "that doesn't mean that his son's all bad."

"Git," Charlotte muttered. "I'm not going to like him! I refuse to! Not after what all his father did to Mum in school and what he did with his extracurricular activities when he ditched Hogwarts! And besides, I have no time for him! I have Quidditch!"

Both girls exchanged another look. It sounded a lot like Charlotte was trying to convince herself of all this. They both got a mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Don't give me that look! Ack! You guys are infuriating!" Charlotte cried, jumping up and fleeing the compartment.

She found an empty compartment at the very end of the train, much to her delight. She needed to hide away from her little sister and her sneaky little ways. More importantly, she had to keep an extensive distance between herself and Derek.

She sank down into the seat, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

"There has to be an easier way to get through this year," she muttered to herself.

Yes, Charlotte was dreading the impending school year, shut up, in a dormitory, with Derek, pretty much Satan himself. And Head duties, she could hardly forget the endless amount of time that would be required of her to spend with him.

She groaned again. "Graduation can't get here soon enough."

Little did she know, as fate would have it, that her life would take an interesting turn soon after graduation.


	2. Chapter 1: What Have I Done?

**Disclaimer:** Derek and Charlotte and Belle and a few others are mine. If I had it my way, they'd all be mine.

**A.N.** You guys were really banking on a sequel, huh? I'm so happy you guys like it so far! Trust me, this will be an interesting ride. For those of you who want a little more summary than what I gave you originally, here's what's gonna go on.

_Sequel to **Help**! Eleven years after Oliver Wood saved Hermione and her daughter, Charlotte Wood has graduated from Hogwarts and has been drafted into the Quidditch league. Her greatest nemesis, Derek Malfoy, the famed Draco Malfoy's son, just happens to be_ _along for the ride. How will he effect Charlotte's new career, and more importantly, her life?_

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter One**

Charlotte sat at the long, covered table, facing a huge crowd. She was terrified out of her mind; there was no way that there had ever been this many people at a school match before. And they were all staring at her, and her only. Charlotte was about to make one of the most important decisions of her life, one that would surely affect her for years to come.

Her father, Oliver, sat to her right, smiling encouragingly at her, and waving at a few people in the crowd that he knew. He touched her gently on the shoulder after a few seconds, making sure she was okay.

"Charlie? Lass? Are yeh all right?"

She nodded, not knowing if she could open her mouth without throwing up. She stared down at the contract, the quill and ink bottle sitting right next to it, just waiting for her to sign. She'd been through the contract several times herself, reading all the fine print and getting Oliver to explain things to her that she didn't understand. Now it was time, the moment of truth. The whole crowd was silent, holding its breath, just waiting for what her next move would be.

Charlotte took in a calming breath. With a shaking hand, she reached for the quill, and uncorked the ink bottle. Carefully, she dipped the quill, and, with an even shakier hand, she brought it to the parchment, and with a careful, tidy scrawl, signed her name, and more importantly, her life, over to her new team, Puddlemere United.

_Flash. _Click. Click. _Flash. Flash._

It was as if fireworks had exploded in the room. The sudden flashes of about a hundred cameras seemed to blind her as soon as she put the quill to the parchment. She wasn't used to this. She was scared out of her mind. She had no idea what she had just done, what she had gotten herself into. She turned to her father for a look of support, of understand of what she was experiencing.

The reporters started shouting questions at her.

"Charlotte! Charlotte! How does it feel to be apart of the team your father played for?"

"Charlotte! A quick quote! Tell us how you feel!"

"Charlotte! Have you met any of your new teammates yet?"

With a pleading look at her father, Charlotte begged him silently to get her out of this.

He understood right away. He cast a quiet charm on himself, then spoke in a booming voice.

"Thanks to yeh all for yer cooperation. Me daughter is done for the day. Thank yeh."

And with that, he stood up, pulled Charlotte's chair out for her, and offered her his arm. She took it gratefully and allowed him to steer her down the length of the table, and out the back door into a much quieter room.

Moments after Charlotte had collapsed into a chair, needing to sit for fear that her knees would give out, her temporary agent appeared.

"Well, that went well," she said vaguely.

"Did it? Luna, I think I was a complete disaster!" Charlotte exclaimed.

Yes, Luna Lovegood was Charlotte's temporary agent. When Oliver had found out that the agency that was working with Charlotte was understaffed, and that Luna was working for them, he insisted that she work with Charlotte until the agency could hire a suitable, permanent agent.

"No, no, you did well. The reporters were happy, anyways. I expect we'll see a nice article in the _Prophet_ tomorrow."

Charlotte groaned. "Oh great. And the picture will be a huge one of me looking absolutely horrified. I can't believe I did this."

"Lass," Oliver tried to say comfortingly, while rubbing her shoulder.

"Dad, why did I do this again?"

"Because yer the best damn Keeper Puddlemere's had since me, tha's why. Yer gonna be fine! Stop worryin' so much. Yer mum's about to have a heart attack as it is."

Charlotte slumped in her seat. "I feel like I'm gonna die. Does that count for anything?"

"Of course it does," a new voice said.

Charlotte opened one eye to peek at the intruder. Her best friend's face greeted her. With a shriek, Charlotte jumped up and bear hugged her.

"Aeryn! I didn't think you'd be here!"

Aeryn Callahan grinned from her death hold. "You think the _Propet_ would let this go without an insider scoop? They know that we're tight. But don't worry, I know you well enough to guess what your answers are. No interview required."

Charlotte cast her a thankful smile. "You are the greatest."

"Someone's got to be here to keep you from dying. I don't think Puddlemere would appreciate it very much if the best Keeper they've had since your dad just up and dies on the day that she signs with them."

Charlotte giggled. "I guess not. I'm just so nervous! I have no idea what to expect! I'm so scared, Aeryn! I feel like I have no idea what to do with myself now. Why does it feel like I've just signed my life over to the devil?"

"Well, lass, yeh have, in a way. They've got yeh for four years, and then after that, yeh can either resign, or go yer separate ways," Oliver said, trying to downplay it a bit.

"Four years of my life, gone just like that. Why does it feel like an eternity?"

"It won't be, once you start playing, Charlie. You'll be so busy, the days will just fly by. And think of the money! Two and a half million Galleons a year, just to hover around on a broom and keep the Quaffle from going through the goals. How easy is that?" Aeryn quipped.

Oliver frowned at her slightly. "Aeryn, lass, there's more to it than tha'. It's almost an art, yeh know, and I'm sure yer dad would tell yeh the same."

Aeryn rolled her eyes in Charlotte's direction. "At times, I wish our dads weren't such international Quidditch stars. I could care less about Quidditch, honestly. I guess I grew up in the wrong family, eh?"

"No. You just didn't get the Quidditch gene. You got your mum's creativity. Think about it, at least you'll be sitting behind a desk, nice and safe, all day. Instead, I'll be up in the air, nothing between me, the ground, and one of those Bludgers. I get hit, I could be done for life," Charlotte reasoned.

Oliver felt a twinge that was quite connected to the way he felt every time he thought about his injury and the end of his career.

"But tha' won' happen, lass. Trust me, the lads on the team now would never let tha' happen to yeh. They're all a bunch of good people. I trust them," Oliver consoled.

"_You_ trust them. I haven't met them yet. So I don't know yet. I'll have to wait to see how they are first."

Oliver exchanged a look with Luna. She seemed mildly surprised about something. Of course, that could just be the fact that she always looked like that.

"Um, lass?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"About yer new teammates."

"What about them?"

"Erm. . ."

"Dad. . ."

"You're going to be the only girl on the team," Luna supplied vaguely.

Charlotte yelped and nearly fell off her chair. "WHAT?!"

Aeryn gave her friend a hand back into her chair and patted her on the shoulder. "Excellent choice, Charlotte."

Charlotte buried her face in her hands. "No! Not an excellent choice! Nobody told me that!"

Oliver looked slightly unhappy. "I know, lass, I know. But if we told yeh, would yeh have signed the contract?"

"You had better bloody believe not! I'm the only girl on the team?! This cannot be happening!"

Oliver sighed. "Think of them as yer new big brothers, lass. I know all of them, and believe me when I say tha' none of them would think of layin' a hand on yeh. I already gave them a bit of a talkin' to."

Charlotte gave a wail and buried her face in her hands again. "Not a talking-to! Dad! Are you insane?! Now they won't even talk to me! I'll be left out of the loop! I'll be the worst one on the team just because they'll be afraid to even look at me!"

Oliver looked slightly alarmed. He had no idea how to deal with a hysterical teenage girl. He thought he had gotten a handle on it once she had hit puberty, but apparently, he was sadly mistaken. He exchanged a pleading look with Aeryn, who smirked in spite of the situation, and knelt down to face level with Charlotte.

"Hey, come on, quit being negative. You've just signed with Puddlemere United! One of the best damn teams in the League! Even I know that! You're playing for your dad's team! With a bunch of guys! Charlotte, come on, a bunch of guys! Probably a bunch of really pathetically good looking guys! Charlotte!" Aeryn grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her face. "You're gonna be awesome!"

Charlotte stared at her best friend for a moment. "I'm going to be okay. I think. Yes, I think I'll be fine. I have to be."

Aeryn looked up at Oliver. "See? Nothing to it."

Oliver shook his head. The look on his face clearly spoke of what he thought of female emotions.

"So are yeh ready to meet your new team?" he asked a few quiet minutes later.

"Now?" Charlotte squeaked.

"Yeah, now."

Luna smiled in a vaguely encouraging way, and Aeryn grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the chair.

"Let's go!"

Charlotte grimaced as she allowed Aeryn to pull her out of the room in order to Apparate to Puddlemere's field.

* * *

Ace Harrison paced up and down in front of his fellow teammates, his brothers. They were all looking at him in an inquiring fashion, wondering just what was so important that had him silent like this for so long.

"All right, mates. Here's the deal. Our new Keeper's gonna show up here at any bloody moment, and we have no idea what to expect, other than this is bloody Oliver Wood's kid we're talkin' about here. Apparently, we've got one bad ass player coming to the team, and we're gonna kick ass once we're complete. So be nice, be helpful, and work together, like a team!"

In a ridiculous show of male machismo, they all started jumping around like fools, bumping chests and high-fiving one another. Once they had settled back down and started into changing, one question was raised.

"What's this kid's name?" Alex Turner, one of the Beaters, asked.

Of course, everyone hated Turner, because he was a bloody American, and an arrogant ass at that. He came to the team believing that he was schooled better than the rest of them, just because those damn Americans had a slightly different tactic to playing Quidditch. It didn't help that Turner took their hatred as jealousy for his "talent."

"Charlie Wood," Ace finally spoke up, glaring hard at Turner.

"Hey, you don't have to glare at me, I was just fucking asking," he huffed.

"Turner, shut up," came the general reply from most everyone in the locker room.

As they were changing, there was much joking and harassment going on. So much so that nobody heard the knock on the locker room door.

* * *

When there was no reply to her knocking, Luna shrugged and marched purposefully into the locker room, Charlotte trailing behind her.

When Charlotte came around the corner to the main locker area, she was greeted by the sight of a half dozen men all in various stages of undress. She gave a minor squeak and averted her eyes, her cheeks growing alarmingly warm.

Luna led her to an empty locker and handed her the Keeper's robes. By then, the room had gone deathly quiet.

"Hey, Lovegood! What the hell do you mean by it?!" Chase Smith, one of the other Chasers, yelled.

Luna spun around. "Hello everyone. Say hello to your new Keeper, Charlotte Wood."

This pronouncement was greeted by one of the most awkward silences Charlotte had ever heard.

"But she's a damn girl!" Turner spluttered out.

Charlotte's face grew all the more redder. They didn't want her here.

The other Beater, Marc LeFleur, punched Turner hard in the arm. "Shut up, you stupid American."

He walked over to Charlotte, who was trying not to look at all the half-naked men around her. "Hello, Charlotte. I'm Marc LeFleur, one of the Beaters."

Charlotte looked up at him, and was greeted by hulking pectoral muscles and huge biceps. She wondered if it was possible for her face to get any redder.

"Hello," she squeaked out.

"Ah, don't mind the muscles. You've never seen a large Frenchman before. You are shocked. I'm an abnormality."

Charlotte gave a half giggle, uncertain if she was supposed to laugh or not. She glanced around, only to be greeted by a lot of stares. She quickly averted her eyes again and went back to putting her things in her locker, trying to ignore the fact that the hair on the back of her neck was prickling uncomfortably, as everyone was still staring at her, and nobody was talking.

"While I'm here, boys," Luna spoke up after a minute or so.

There was a collective groan from the team.

"Don't give me that rubbish. I want to go over some things with you before I leave her with you."

There was more groaning.

"Since she's apart of the team, you will treat her as so. If I find out that she has been mistreated in any way, you will have not only me to answer to, but her father as well. Understood?"

Everyone muttered something under their breath.

"And while you're at it, you'll want to read this. I know bloody well that none of you follow it, and now that Charlotte's here, you _will _follow it, if you want to stay playing for this team."

She chucked a heavy book at Ace's head, which he caught at the last second. He looked quite indignant.

"Now, wait just a second here, Lovegood," he started angrily.

"If you want to stay captain of this team, Ace, I suggest you shut your mouth," she said lightly as she walked out of the locker room.

There was the sound of a door shutting, and then silence once more. Charlotte tried to ignore the staring, but it just wasn't working. But then, by some miracle, of the other guys walked over to her, thankfully dressed.

"Hey, Charlotte. I'm Callum Gentry, team Seeker."

She looked up at him, and was relieved to see a smile on his face. He looked like a friendly sort of person, which boosted her mood almost immediately. She had a feeling she had at least one ally on her side already.

Callum was shoved aside roughly by the guy who had exclaimed about her being a girl earlier, Alex Turner. He stuck out a hand and grinned at her smugly when she took his hand briefly.

"Alex Turner, Chaser. I'm from America," he threw in, thinking it would impress her.

Charlotte, being the nice person she was, was far from being naive. She saw right through his facade, though she said nothing. She knew the others saw right through him as well. Needless to say, she was far from impressed.

"Hello," she said politely, though gritting her teeth. He was one of the reasons she had been hesitant about joining the League. She knew there were more Alex Turners out there that she would be playing against.

Ace shoved Turner out of the way and gave him a dirty look for trying to be such a show-off.

"Hey, Charlotte. Sorry about him, he's a bit of an idiot. Anyways, I'm Ace Harrison, team Captain and Chaser. Just come to me if you have any questions, okay?"

Charlotte smiled, but she saw immediately that he was no better than Alex. He was almost as oily and twice as arrogant. She wanted to cringe. Two arrogant forces on one team. This was going to make things hard. For all of them.

"Thank you, Ace. I'll keep that in mind."

She went back to putting her gear into her locker in a neat, organized fashion. Her mother would be proud. Charlotte was every bit of her mother as she could be, but twice as saintly, sadly enough. The guys all saw immediately how sweet and innocent she was, and while she wasn't looking, they were all exchanging looks that only guys could possibly give. If Charlotte had seen them, she would have known immediately what was going on, and probably would have run screaming for the nearest exit.

It was probably a good thing that she wasn't paying attention to them, because most of them, save for Callum and Marc, were checking her out covertly. As each of them finished dressing and putting their gear on for practice, the ones who hadn't introduced themselves came over to her.

"Oh, Merlin! Charlotte Wood! You guys, she's freakin' Oliver Wood's daughter! Can you believe it?! And he played for this very team eleven years ago! This is too awesome! And you're supposed to be some kind of crazy prodigy of his, aren't you? I've heard that you're supposed to be Oliver reincarnated. Oh, and I'm Pietro, Pietro Gonzalez, and I cannot tell you how freakin' happy I am to be playing with you, and having the honor of knowing-"

Chase came over and slapped a hand over Pietro's mouth. "I think it's time for you to shut up now." He grimaced at Charlotte, who looked shocked at what he had done. "Oh don't worry, Pietro's always like this. He's ADD or something like that. If it isn't me, it's someone else shutting him up. We've tried putting a Permanent Sticking Charm on him before, but Lovegood found out, and nearly kicked us all off the team. Oh, and I'm Chase Smith, the other Chaser."

Charlotte cast a slightly scandalized look at Pietro before looking back at Chase. He was smiling in a friendly enough way, and she almost felt as comfortable with him as she did with Callum, despite just meeting him. She knew if she had any issues with the others, she could easily go to Callum or Chase. Chase just had this aura about him that screamed "I'm the father-like one around here!"

"All right you guys!" Ace yelled over the growing din.

"Don't forget about the woman, genius," Turner called, grinning slyly in Charlotte's direction.

She wasn't amused. "I'm sorry, Alex, was it? I don't exactly appreciate being called 'woman.' I have a name, and would appreciate it if you called me by it, or just called me Charlie."

Turner looked taken aback and slightly indignant. He cast an incredulous look at Ace, who shrugged, smirked, and covertly winked at Charlotte.

"Yeah, Turner, just stop talking," Marc spoke up, looking carefully menacing and making sure that all his muscles were flexed to their full capacity.

Turner eyed those bulging muscles warily and then shrugged. "Whatever. I'm out for a warm up. See you guys on the field," he said, putting careful emphasis on 'guys.'

Charlotte shook her head and finished strapping her wrist guards on.

There was much grumbling going on around her. Charlotte was pretty sure she heard some colorful language being thrown in by Marc, though she couldn't understand for all the French he was using.

"Asshole," Chase muttered. "Sorry about him, Charlotte. Really, we've been trying to get rid of him for awhile now. But I think Lovegood just uses him as punishment for us, I swear.

She smiled. "It's fine. I know his type. It doesn't bother me, really."

He smiled, gave her a pat on the shoulder, then motioned for her to follow him and the others out onto the practice field.

She grabbed her Firebolt and followed the rest of the guys out onto the field, squinting in the bright sunlight. It was a beautiful day, hardly a cloud in the sky, the breeze light and making her whispy bangs dance about. She was just able to discern Turner's shape in the air, whipping around like a maniac in the air.

Ace didn't bother to call Turner down to the team huddle in the center of the field, privately thinking if the idiot was that dense then he had no business playing Quidditch.

"All right, team, let's go with simple warm-ups to start, that way Charlie gets the hang of how things work around here. Then we'll work on plays."

Charlotte felt a thrill of excitement as she mounted her broom and took off, leaving her nerves and embarrassment on the ground. She did a couple loops to shake off the last of her nerves, and a steep dive to get her adrenaline flowing. The guys were watching her with amazement, surely girls weren't supposed to be able to fly like that?

"All right! Let's go with passing!" she heard Ace call, and she looped around to join in with the rest of the guys to throw the Quaffle around.

Charlotte was delighted to find that Turner's American style could hardly compete with the superb capabilities of her fellow Brits. He fumbled the Quaffle several times, having to dive sharply once, and getting yelled at by Ace every time he messed up. Charlotte could tell Turner's temper was up, but it seemed like he didn't want to yell back at Ace.

Chase tossed a soft one at her, making her dive for it. With hardly a hitch, she dove for it, grabbed it easily and returned to playing height without an embarrassing mistakes.

"Awesome flying, Wood! Keep it up!" Ace called to her as she threw it to Marc.

Pietro was so hyper that he could hardly hover in one spot for more than a few seconds of time, nor could he seem to stop talking.

"Come on, guys, pass it to me, pass it to me!"

Charlotte was certain that Turner intentionally threw the Quaffle as hard as he did to hit Pietro in the mouth. She was nearly beside herself with anger.

"Alex! That wasn't cool! Apologize to him, NOW!" she exclaimed, flying over to Pietro to make sure he was all right.

"You've got to be kidding me," Turner muttered.

"Do it," Chase said dangerously, eyeing Charlotte as she cast a simple Healing spell to stop Pietro's mouth from bleeding.

"Sorry," Turner threw out carelessly, sweeping his windblown hair away from his face.

Charlotte could hardly bring herself to look at him. "Say it like you mean it."

Turner audibly sighed in a disgusted tone. "I did mean it."

"That's it. Turner, you're done for the day. Go change and get the hell out of here!" Ace yelled angrily.

"What the hell for? Gonzalez needs to learn how to shut up! Maybe if he was paying attention to what the hell the rest of us were doing, then he wouldn't have got smacked in the face!"

Ace flew up to meet Turner, who looked like he had no intention of leaving practice early. Charlotte couldn't hear what was being said, but both men's faces were a hearty scarlet by now, and Ace was jabbing his finger in the direction of the locker room.

It happened so fast that she almost missed it, but the next moment, Ace was throwing himself at Turner from his broom, and the rest of the team flew up to restrain him, trying to calm him down, while yelling at Turner to get out of the air and leave.

After a few minutes of talking to Ace to calm him down, and once Turner had finally left the field, practice returned to normal, although there was quite a tense feel to the air.

They all returned to the locker room once Ace decided to call it a day, and the uncomfortable tenseness to the air thickened once they were all inside. Charlotte realized with a sinking feeling that there was really no private area for her to change early on in the day, so she had worn a tank and a pair of shorts underneath her robes. The guys cast her peevish looks while she simply pulled her robes off and hung them up, then gathered up her guards and put then in her duffel bag.

"Great practice guys! I'll see you all tomorrow!" she called as she walked out of the locker room, noticing the rather enlarged sign that Luna obviously had hung up before she left, detailing the treatment of fellow female teammates.

Charlotte couldn't suppress her grin. She had been so unsure of her decision to join the League, but now, once the day was over and she had attended her first practice, she had a pleasant feeling that she would be fitting in quite well around here.


	3. Chapter 2: You're my WHAT!

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, the ones Jo made are her's. But the rest are mine, and if I had it my way, Derek would most definitely be mine.

**A.N.** So you guys all love Gonzalez, huh? I figured you would. What do you all think of Turner? Ass much? Anyways, here's chapter two, and the plot thickens once more. Enjoy!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Two**

Derek Malfoy rolled over in his bed and stretched lazily. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and he once again relished in the fact that he had nothing better to do with his life than sleep in. The rather large apartment he was living in was fully furnished and paid for all by his father, meaning Derek didn't have to go out and work to earn anything. He lived quite a comfortable life for not having ever lifted a finger in his life.

He ran a hand over his slightly stubbly face and yawned hugely. First thing on the agenda: actually manage to get out of bed. Then worry about the rest of the day later.

He went through his usual morning routine without a second thought; shower, shave, admire himself in the mirror for a few minutes. Then it was time for breakfast and the morning _Prophet_.

He sat down at his small table and propped his feet up on the extra chair while he ate his cereal and nosed through the newspaper. When he reached the sports section, his spoon fell back into the cereal bowl with a clatter and a splash of milk.

A huge picture of Charlotte Wood took up most of the top section of the sports section, followed by the banner headline, "**Wood Signs With Puddlemere!**" Upon closer inspection, Derek determined she looked absolutely terrified of where she was at and what she had done. Her father, the ridiculously famous Oliver Wood, sat next to her and was beaming at her proudly.

Derek skimmed through the article written on her (continued on pages three, four, and five), and her new teammates. Then he read something of phenomenal interest.

"Wood's temporary agent, Luna Lovegood, commented that she would only remain Wood's agent until a permanent agent could be found for her."

Derek sat back in his chair, letting the paper fall through his fingers. He tapped the table with his fingers, thinking hard. So Charlotte Wood needed a permanent agent, eh?

A slow smile spread across his face. He had so many connections in high places because of his father that it would be easy to pull a few strings. Sure, he had no experience in the work force, and had never worked a day in his life, but really, how hard would it be to be some Quidditch star's agent? All you have to do is make sure they follow the League guidelines and don't manage to kill themselves or seriously injure themselves, otherwise you'll both be out of luck, but really, Derek could do this. And what's more, he would be working with Charlotte Wood.

'Really, that girl has no idea how much better off she would be with me,' he thought. 'If she would just stop hating me and realize how much better her life would be with me in it. . .'

He sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes more, tapping his freshly shaven chin with his forefinger and imagining the possibilities that could come from this.

"Derek, my boy, I think your life just took a fortunate turn for the good," he muttered to himself as he got up to Apparate to visit his father.

* * *

Charlotte awoke with a disgruntled sigh, the sun illuminating her room to a bright and cheery yellow. She did not like to be awake at this time of the morning. Granted, it was about eight in the morning, but Charlotte considered it a waste of sleep if she couldn't stay in bed until at least ten.

She heaved a great yawn and felt her jaw crack, much to her annoyance. She cast a withering glare at her alarm clock, then with much trepidation, shoved herself out of bed and into a robe and some slippers before shuffling down the hall to the kitchen, where she could smell freshly cooked waffles and sausage wafting on the air.

Hermione was at the stove, watching the sausages so they wouldn't burn, and alternately pulling waffles from the waffle iron with her wand. Belle was sitting at the table, idly tapping her fingers against the wood as she waited for the waffles and sausages to be set before her. Oliver was buried in the _Prophet_, and occasionally gave the paper a rustle to show that he was acutely aware of what was going on around him.

"Morning, Mum," Charlotte mumbled sleepily.

Hermione turned around and smiled at her. "Sleep well, Keeper?"

Charlotte groaned slightly and fell into the chair beside her father. "Like a baby. I thought it was all a dream. Guess I was wrong. And I hate being up this early!"

Oliver chuckled from behind his paper. "Jus' wait until yeh have to be up for the crack o' dawn practices before a match. Yer gonna come to appreciate sleepin' till eight in the mornin'."

Charlotte flicked at his paper teasingly and turned to her breakfast plate, which Hermione had just set in front of her.

"Thanks, Mum."

"Charlie, when do me and Mack get a tour of the locker room?" Belle asked after a few bites of waffle.

Oliver sounded like he choked a bit on his coffee, and turned a wary eye on Charlotte.

"Why do you and Mack want a tour of the locker room?" she inquired with a smile.

"Why do you think? Famous Quidditch players? Shamefully good looking gits who rarely think with their brains other than to anticipate the next move of the opposing team? Charlie, come on."

Oliver set down his mug with rather a louder than necessary bump. "Belle, I dinna think that a locker room is any sort of place for a-"

"Oh, hush, Dad. I'm just teasing her. But me and Mack really do want a tour, though."

Charlotte glanced down at the paper that Oliver had abandoned. With a strangled cry and half a choke on the wad of waffle in her mouth, her fork fell to her plate with a _clang_ and she snatched up the sports section of the _Prophet._

"**Wood Signs With Puddlemere!**" was the headline that stared back at her. And right underneath that was a huge picture of her looking her absolutely most terrified, and Oliver smiling proudly at her. She skimmed through the article with mounting horror, although Aeryn did a good job of leaving out a lot of embarrassing details.

"She did a good job of writin' the article, lass, calm down. It's not the end of the world," Oliver said, patting her hand to comfort her.

"Oh sure, it's not the end of the world. Except that I'll have no personal time or space of my own anymore," she said faintly, looking up to stare at him.

"Ah, the perks of being an international star," Hermione joked.

"What have I done?" Charlotte muttered.

"Hey, I know what will keep your mind off of your impending doom," Belle piped up.

Charlotte cast her an annoyed look. "What?"

"Think about taking me and Mack with you to practice today."

Charlotte sighed. "Fine. But you tell Mack she has to be here before we leave. I'm not stopping off all over the country to get her."

Belle jumped up from her chair and hugged Charlotte. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

Charlotte ruffled her hair. "Yeah, you're just trying to get in good with the international superstar. Then you can lay bragging rights to your last name. And hope you get some spotlight," she added with less enthusiasm.

"Spotlight? There's a spotlight that has a possibility of shining on me? YES!" Belle took off down the hall, probably to get a hold of Mack and let her know what was going on.

Charlotte shook her head. "Maybe if you're lucky, Dad, she have inherited that crazy Quidditch gene too. Keep working with her, and she just might make the House team next year at school."

Oliver chortled as she stood up from the table and took her plate to the sink to wash itself. Then she went back to her room, where she leaned against the closed door for a moment, thinking.

She really couldn't wait for practice today. As much of an ass as Turner was, she knew she would learn to ignore him like the rest of the guys, and they would all get along just fine. Callum, Marc, and Chase all seemed to like her well enough, and though she really couldn't speak much for Ace, and found Pietro absolutely comical, she knew that in the end, they would all end up just like her older brothers. (Though she suspected Marc might have other intentions.)

There was a knock at her door.

"What?"

"Mack says she's going to Floo here before you leave for practice, so we can do Side-Along Apparition with you!" Belle called enthusiastically.

"Okay! She better not be late!" Charlotte called back as she wrestled her nightshirt over her head and changed into some comfortable clothes.

"She won't! I swear! If she is, I'll make sure that I personally kick her-"

"Belle!" came Hermione's admonishing yell.

"Whoops. Sorry, Mum." Charlotte heard Belle apologize.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, Mum?"

"Are you busy?"

"I'm changing. What do you need?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to talk about anything, that's all."

Charlotte thought for a moment as she pulled on her socks. "Curious about the team, Mum?"

Hermione cracked the door open and peeked in to make sure that Charlotte was dressed. Once she saw that she was, Hermione came into her room and shut the door after her.

"Well, you didn't really say anything last night when you came home. You were so worn out, all we got out of you was a 'Practice was good. Tired, going to bed, love you.'"

Charlotte grinned as Hermione sat down next to her.

"Well, I won't lie, Mum, the guys are pretty great. Okay, well, most of them. Ace, the captain, he's a bit of a slimy git, kind of arrogant, you know? And then there's this Alex Turner guy. He's American, and he thinks that he's the greatest thing to ever walk the earth. He's got this superiority complex or something, I swear. When Luna introduced me as the new Keeper, he got all indignant and was slightly annoyed that they let a girl on the team. . ."

Hermione listened intently as Charlotte talked animatedly about her new teammates. She couldn't help but smile at her daughter's enthusiasm as she gestured wildly all over the place and couldn't stop smiling as she talked about her guys.

"So it sounds like you're going to be getting along great with them, huh?" Hermione spoke finally once Charlotte had finished her long-winded explanation.

"I hope so. I think I'll get along just fine with Callum, Chase, and Marc. Marc's a crazy French guy, and Mum, I cannot even begin to tell you how muscled this guys is. I've never seen a French guy so big! I'm pretty sure he could name his pectoral muscles if he had a mind to. And his biceps! Mum, they're as thick as my head!"

Hermione laughed. "That can't be true!"

Charlotte shook her head. "Oh, it is, Mum, it is. It's ridiculous."

When Charlotte told Hermione about Pietro, she thought that Hermione was going to fall off the bed because she was laughing so much. Oliver poked his head in the door to see what all the noise was about.

"Lass? Yeh all right there?"

Hermione choked back her laughter. "Fine! Charlie was just telling me about Pietro. . ."

Oliver cracked a grin. "I knew yeh would find him amusing. Truth be told, he's a bit of an overenthusiastic lad, but he'll be all right."

"Dad, he about wet himself when he actually introduced himself to me. He was over the moon about the fact that I'm your daughter."

Oliver chuckled. "He's a good lad. Got some decent talent too, from what I've heard."

"Dad, what do you think about Turner?"

Oliver scowled. "They shouldna ever brought tha' idiot over from the States in the first place. Got a head the size of Loch Ness, it's a fair wonder he can even get off the ground."

Charlotte grinned. "My thoughts exactly."

"What do yeh think about that Marc?" Oliver asked.

"Muscle guy! He's pretty cool. Typical Frenchman in every other way other than the muscles. Honestly, where did the muscles come from? I didn't think that was possible!"

"And what about Callum and Chase?"

Charlotte smiled. "They're my favorites so far. They're so nice. Callum's really quiet, like he just sits back and takes everything in before he'll put his opinion in. But Chase has a sense of humor, and seems to not care that I'm a girl. Those two are already like my older brothers."

Oliver smiled. "So yer gonna be gettin' on with the lads. That's good, Charlie girl, that's good. Lookin' forward to practice today?"

Charlotte nodded. "Yeah. Not so much to see Turner and Ace, but you'll get idiots with every team, I suppose."

Oliver chuckled. "That's my girl."

* * *

Derek watched as his father more or less yelled at several very important officials in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry. As soon as he had told his father just what it was he was after, both father and son had Apparated off to the Ministry to get Derek in right where he wanted.

"He's a Malfoy! What more do you want of him? He can get the job done just as well as an other git that would come strolling in here looking for a job! Tell me just what it is that my son doesn't have that the rest of those idiots have!"

Derek pretended to look charming as the official looking people turned his way. He plastered a huge smile on his face and stood up straighter, trying to look the part of a working individual.

"Ever worked before, boy?" the old wizened looking man coughed out.

"Of course I have, sir," Derek replied smoothly.

Draco shot him a look that clearly said, "Don't screw this up."

"Any experience being an agent?" the younger man shot at him.

"Well, no, but there's a first for everything, right? It's not like the rest of the people coming in here have a lot of experience, right, sir?"

The man tapped his chin, surveying Derek carefully. Derek looked back at him, unflinching and meeting his gaze directly.

After several minutes' silence, the younger man pulled the old one away, and they stood off to the side, having a whispered conversation, punctuated by many looks thrown over their shoulders at Derek, who stood with crossed arms, waiting for their decision.

Finally, the two walked back, and the younger man stuck out his hand.

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Malfoy. Can you start today?"

"Yes, sir, I can. Who will I be working with?"

"Well, the ProTeams Agency has a major shortage of agents, to the point where they've been having to double up on who they're representing. I'm sure you're aware that Oliver Wood's daughter, Charlotte, has signed with Puddlemere. She's been represented by Luna Lovegood, but Ms. Lovegood's workload is simply outrageous, and we'd like to be able to give Wood's daughter someone who can give her full attention. Ms. Lovegood's just not able to give Wood's daughter what she needs. So you'll be working for ProTeams, and you'll be representing Charlotte Wood. How's that for starting?"

Derek could have leapt into the air with joy. But instead, he settled for a polite smile and a handshake. "Thanks very much to you both. I really appreciate this opportunity you're giving me. I'm sure Miss Wood and I will get along quite well."

Draco shot Derek a sharp look, which Derek ignored.

"Thank you, gentleman, I'm sorry to have shouted at you both. I'm sure my son won't disappoint you in any way. Will you, Derek?"

Derek shook his head. "Of course not, Father. You know what a work ethic I have."

Draco placed a hand on his son's shoulder and guided him away. They didn't speak until they had Apparated back to the family manor, and Draco had settled himself into a chair and had called for a house elf to fetch him something strong to drink.

Draco glared at the sports section of the _Prophet_, where Charlotte was still looking horrified under the banner headline.

"Is this what you're on about?" Draco finally spat once he'd had a good strong swallow of firewhiskey.

Derek stretched out on the floor, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, her face playing along his imagination.

"Calm down, Father. She's just a girl."

"Just a girl? JUST A GIRL?! She's Oliver Wood's daughter, for Merlin's sake! Don't give me 'she's just a girl.'"

"Am I correct in guessing you have issues with that?"

"Don't get smart with me, boy. That's Hermione Granger's daughter to boot. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. She'll hate you, much like her mother despised me."

"She already does," Derek mentioned offhandedly.

"Then what the hell do you mean by it?"

Derek shrugged. "You can't help who you fall for, Father. It's not like when you were my age. You and Mum were already set up from birth, remember?"

Draco glared down at his son. "Don't remind me of what my father did for me."

Derek grinned. "Oh, come on, Father, it's not like you and Mum don't have your moments. I'm sure that you both love each other very much, er, very _deep_ down inside."

"What about me and your father?" came a simpering voice.

Derek could have sworn he saw his father cringe.

"Hello, Mum. You're looking lovely today," Derek said in a sunny voice.

His mother, the esteemed Pansy Parkinson, frowned down at him. "Come now, Derek, don't try to change the subject. I know as well as you do that I look fantastic. What were you talking to your father about?"

"My new job," he said, examining his fingernails in a bored fashion.

"New job? Draco, what in the name of Merlin-"

"Pansy, he wanted to get a job. Let him live his life. I happened to get him in good. He's going to be a Quidditch agent for Oliver Wood's daughter."

Pansy sneered. "That Muggle lover? But that girl isn't even his! That Mudblood and that _gorgeous_ boy from Ravenclaw got together and-"

She fell silent at the look on her husband's face, and instead looked down at the discarded paper, where Charlotte was still giving the ceiling a horrified look.

"Tsk, Derek, I hope you didn't actually go for the job based on looks. She's a dreadful little creature."

Derek merely gave his mother a contemptuous look. "Fear not, Mum, fear not."

"Aren't you supposed to be getting to work?" Draco asked, glancing at the clock.

Derek glanced up as the clock struck two. Puddlemere started practice right now.

"Damn! On my way! Bye, Mum! Try not to kill her while I'm gone, Father!"

And with that, Derek Malfoy Apparated to the practice field, filled with excitement and mischief, just imagining the look on Charlotte's face when she saw him.

* * *

"Wow! Belles, look! It's the official team locker room!"

"I can't believe we're actually at a real pro team's field!" Belle squealed.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Hey, keep it down, you two. I'm not exactly sure I'm supposed to be bringing you here. So if they tell you to shut your eyes, shut your eyes."

Belle and Mack exchanged looks behind her back. Like hell they were going to shut their eyes to avoid looking at all the marvelous men. Twelve years old they might be, but they knew a good looking man when they saw one.

Charlotte pushed the locker room door open cautiously, tiptoeing in to peek around the corner to make sure that none of the guys were in less than a half-naked state. Satisfied with what she saw (and she saw enough to know that it would be good enough for the girls to come in), she beckoned for the two younger ones to follow her inside.

"Hi, guys!" she said happily, waving to them as she walked over to her locker, closely followed by the two little ones.

There was a chorus of hello's, closely followed by several "What the hell's?"

"Wood! What the hell do you mean by it?" Ace yelled, yanking his robes down over his head hastily to hide his perfect six-pack.

Belle and Mack stood there innocently, looking up at the ceiling with sweet smiles on their faces.

"Oh, yeah, guys, this is my little sister, Belle, and Belle's best friend, Mackenzie. They wanted to check the place out and watch one of our practices, so I brought them along. I hope you don't mind."

The two girls looked around at the men, sweet little puppy dog faces plastered on, making the guys all cave.

"Fine. But they have to stay out once practice is over. Am I clear, Wood?" Ace growled.

"Hey, be nice to my sister," Belle snapped at him.

Ace looked mildly amused. "And you're what? Seven?"

Belle looked indignant. "I'm twelve, thank you very much. And you better be nice to my sister. She may be the nice one, but I'm not against knocking you in the-"

Charlotte clamped a hand over her sister's mouth. "Don't mind her. She talks big, but she really doesn't–OUCH!"

Charlotte yanked her hand away and glared at Belle, who looked pleased with herself as she looked at the nice bite mark on Charlotte's palm.

The guys all chuckled, which earned them a deadly glare from Belle. "Don't laugh at her, either. I'm the only one allowed to do that."

Chase sidled over and nudged Charlotte in the ribs. "Cute kid you've got there."

"Oh shut it, you. I thought I'd be nice and bring her along, so she couldn't say I never did anything with her. One of my last chances to have fun with my little sister."

Chase grinned. "I'm joking. I think it's cool. Quite the wiseass."

"I heard that," Belle called as she was walking around the locker room, examining everything (and everyone).

Charlotte sighed and nudged Mack off to join Belle so she could change into her robes. She hoped that Ace wasn't too pissed at her for bringing the two girls along.

Turner was less than happy about having two more females in the locker room.

"What the hell?" he was saying in a low voice to Ace. "What happened to keeping this all testosterone only? Not that I'm saying our girl's not a nice piece of ass or anything. . ."

"What did you just say about my sister?" Belle hissed.

Charlotte tugged her head through her robes in time to see Belle launch herself at Turner with a fierce war cry.

"Belle, no!"

Turner's eyes widened with shock as he dove out of the way. Charlotte screamed, thinking Belle was about to slam headlong into the lockers behind Turner, and jumped forward to try and grab her, but the next moment, a hand grabbed Belle by the back of her shirt and lifted her from danger.

"Let me go!" Belle squeaked, struggling to get away from the grip of the hand holding her above the ground.

Charlotte gasped as the man stepped out of the shadow by the lockers.

"Derek Malfoy!"

He smirked at her reaction. That was exactly the look he was hoping for.

"I think this belongs to you," he said, holding Belle out by the collar of her shirt as she swung her fists around in the air, trying to connect with flesh.

Charlotte grabbed Belle out of his hold and pulled her close. "Don't touch her!"

Belle looked up the tall, blonde guy and was hit with a dawning of recognition.

"Hey, Charlotte, isn't he that one guy who you-"

"Be quiet, Belle."

"But Charlotte, he's the one that you-"

"Belle! I said be quiet!"

"I'm the one that you, what, Charlotte?" Derek asked coyly, smiling at her discomfort.

"Mind your business, Derek! And Belle, if you don't keep your mouth shut, I'm going to take you back home!"

"Shame, shame, Charlotte, such a way to treat your sister after an almost near-death experience."

"What are you doing here, Derek?" Charlotte asked in an exasperated tone.

"What am I doing here? Funny you should ask, Charlotte. I'd like you to meet your new, permanent agent. The one and only, Derek Malfoy."

Charlotte's eyes widened in shock and her jaw dropped.

"Don't joke with me, Derek, I'm not in the mood."

He laughed airily. "Joke? Me? Oh, funny, Charlotte, very funny. No, I'm afraid I'm not joking. I'm your new agent."

The guys could only assume that she had a history with the Derek guy. One minute she was fine, then the next, her face had gone white and she sat down on the bench.

"Charlie? Wood! What's up?" Ace asked sharply, putting a hand on her shoulder and shaking it sharply.

"Get your hands off my sister, you creep!" Belle snapped, shoving his hand away from Charlotte's shoulder and replacing it with her own.

"Charlotte?" Belle asked.

"Charlie?" Mack reiterated.

Charlotte shook her head, staring at the floor. "You have got to be kidding me. This cannot be happening. This is just a dream, that's all it is. . ."

"If you're dreaming of me, then I must be one lucky guy," Derek quipped.

The guys all turned and glared at him.

"Why you?" Charlotte managed out.

"You're just one lucky girl, Charlotte Wood," Derek said.

"Lucky? This is lucky? I can hardly wait to see what my bad luck is," Charlotte groaned.

What was she going to do now?


	4. Chapter 3: Charming? I Think Not

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine. Some characters are mine. Everything else belongs to Jo. Sadly enough.

**A.N.** I'm sorry it took me so long to update guys. I had a huuuuuuuge writer's block, not to mention I had to take the SATs two weeks ago, and an even bigger AP US History test for college credits a week ago. I think the stress really did a number on my writing, so now that those two tests have passed, I think I can write again. Enjoy!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Three**

Charlotte grabbed her broom and followed the guys out onto the field in a haze. Belle and Mack followed close behind, with Derek, grinning smugly, bringing up the rear.

The guys kept casting wondering looks at their newest Keeper, but all she was paying attention to was the fact that Derek Malfoy, her greatest object of loathing and new agent, was sitting in the stands with her little sister and her best friend, talking to them and laughing, while casting smirking looks at her all the while.

"How did this happen?" she muttered as Belle looked over and gave a huge wave, grinning all the while.

"Having issues, Wood?" Turner shot at her as he mounted his broom.

"Sod off, Turner, leave her alone!" Marc hissed.

"Wood! Get your mind on the game!" Ace barked.

Charlotte shook her head and mounted her broom before kicking off the ground. She let the wind blow away her annoyance and worries. She would ignore him the entire practice if she had to. She was not going to let him get to her, that was for sure. He may be her agent, but she didn't have to like him, or for that matter, talk to him about anything personal. And if he tried to get chummy, well, her father could easily take care of things.

She groaned. Her father. She hadn't thought about what Oliver's reaction to the news of Derek being her agent would be. She gritted her teeth.

"Anything to make my life a little bit harder, eh, Derek?" she growled in frustration.

She heard a whistle and looked around. The others were hovering around Ace, waiting for her to join them.

"All right, Wood, I don't know what the problem is between you and that Malfoy guy, but you better get over it damn quick. We can't afford to have your head somewhere else in the upcoming match against the Tornadoes, got it?" Ace chastised.

Slightly hurt by his no-nonsense attitude, Charlotte nodded curtly. "It won't be a problem, Ace, I swear."

"Hey, Ace, lay off her, will you? Clearly she's got issues with the guy, and was in for a major shock earlier. Clearly she hates the guy. Don't you Charlotte?" Chase spoke up.

Charlotte's eyes widened. "I don't necessarily hate him. I dislike him very much. And I had no idea that he was going to be my new agent."

"Look, does someone want to explain who this guy is anyway? What is it about him that makes you hate him, Charlie?" Pietro spoke up, looking completely bewildered.

Everyone turned to look at her expectantly.

She took a breath. "Do you guys remember your parents ever telling you about a Draco Malfoy from the War?"

A few of them nodded, but others, like Turner, looked blankly at her.

"He's Derek's father. And his father treated my mum and her friends like garbage when they were in school. His father tried to kill Albus Dumbledore. He was up to his eyeballs in the Dark Arts, but when the war was over, he renounced his ways and came back to the right side. But my mum, who ended up losing her friends in the war, never forgave him. And I never would either."

"So you're saying that you hate this guy simply because of who his father was?" Callum finally made himself heard.

Charlotte thought for a moment. "It isn't only because of who his father is. It's because of how much he's like his father. He's arrogant, he's sneaky, conniving, and his attitude is deplorable. Even if he isn't involved in the Dark Arts like his father was, I don't want anything to do with him or his family, however much his father declares that he's given up his old ways."

A few of the guys turned to look toward the stands, where Derek was still sitting with the girls. All three waved jovially. A few of the guys scowled.

"Don't let him get to you, Charlotte. We're here, we'll keep him straight," Marc said, puffing out his chest protectively.

Charlotte smiled. "Trust me, I don't think I'll let him get to me. He won't have to worry about you guys. I can hardly wait to see what my father's reaction to this is."

There was a general murmur of "poor bastard" around the group and a few appreciative winces all around.

"Well, now that we've got that settled, can we get on with our practice session?" Ace asked rather sourly, wishing that there was no such drama on his team.

There was a chorus of agreement, and they all swooped into action. They sailed through the passing drills for warm up and each took their turns with Marc at the bat with the Bludgers to test their agility and speed. Then they flew right into their play work, Charlotte swooping around the crazy tangle of men to beat the Quaffle to the hoops.

"Incoming!" she heard one of them yell, and turned just in time to see a Bludger sailing up to greet her head-on.

She forced her broom into a sharp nosedive and felt the hairs on the top of her head ruffle as the Bludger just missed her. She saw Turner trying to take advantage of the empty hoops to score, and quickly flew up to meet him. The look of determination on his face was hard to miss, but he was out of luck when he threw the Quaffle and Charlotte did a clever turn with her broom at the last second to swat it away.

After about an hour of such hard play, Ace finally called it a day. He patted her on the back and congratulated her on getting her head back into the game.

"Keep flying like this and we've got the game against the Tornadoes in the bag next week!" He praised.

Charlotte met up with the girls as the team was walking to the locker room.

"You're amazing up there, Charlie!" Mack squealed as they walked along beside her.

"I told you there's nobody like her in the air, except for our dad when he still flew," Belle said proudly.

Derek walked several paces behind, watching the little buggers literally prance around beside her. He had to admit, he hadn't seen talent like Charlotte's in awhile, at least since her father flew. It was rather remarkable that she had his talent, even if she didn't have his blood in her veins. He was rather impressed with her, and he found her talent rather appealing, even more so than the girl herself.

Charlotte gave Belle a hug as she made to go into the locker room. "Stay out here, you heard Ace earlier. No locker rooms for you two."

They pouted for a moment, but then saw Derek walking toward them, and immediately starting grinning. It was entertaining to watch Charlotte try to deal with him in her nicest way possible.

"That means you too," she said, watching him try to move past her into the lockers.

"What do you mean? I'm your agent! I'm supposed to be allowed in the locker room!"

"Nope. You're staying out here. If you need to talk to me, you will wait until after I have changed and I come back out here."

"Charlotte-"

"Derek, if you know what's good for you, you will stay out here. The guys would massacre you if you came in against my wishes. Trust me, they're very protective."

She left him standing there with quite an ugly look on his face, though she was smiling quite happily as she walked in to change.

The guys were all in various stages of undress when Charlotte practically skipped in. And then proceeded to face-plant right into Marc's massive pectorals.

Charlotte gave a muffled speak, scrambled backward, tripped over her feet, and started to fall backward, her arms waving like windmills to try to regain her balance.

Marc was chuckling as he reached out and caught her around the waist before she hit the floor.

"You might want to consider keeping your mind off Lover-Boy out there, Charlotte," he said wryly.

Red-faced and heartily embarrassed, Charlotte detached herself from Marc's grip and went to her locker, where she could effectively hide her red face.

"I wasn't thinking of him," she insisted as she pulled her guards off.

"Sure you weren't," Marc teased.

"Hey, speaking of Agent Ass-Face, shouldn't he be in here?" Turner asked as he marched purposefully past, clutching nothing but a towel as he headed for the showers.

Charlotte quickly averted her eyes from his near perfect body as she shook her head. "I told him to stay out. The only reason he wants in here is to. . ."

"See you strip?" Turner smirked as he continued to the showers.

"Or possibly see the body that not even we've seen?" Ace suggested.

"Hey, back off her, assholes. You didn't even want her here in the first place," Chase piped up, shoving Ace back to his locker.

Charlotte threw a sweatshirt on and tossed the rest of her gear in her locker. Recovering her dignity, she shook her curls out of the ponytail she had in and turned around to leave.

"Hey, hey Charlotte!" Pietro bounded up to her.

"Yes, Pietro?"

"Don't hate us."

Charlotte smiled. "I don't hate you, Pietro."

"I meant them."

Charlotte glanced around. Ace, Callum, and Marc were still there. "How could I hate them for being male? Besides, it was just Ace and Turner."

Pietro grinned. "See you tomorrow, then?"

"Of course. Good bye everyone."

Charlotte threw her duffel bag over her shoulder and walked out of the locker room. Derek was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking haughty. When he saw her, he shoved away from the wall and fell into step with her.

"You know, as your agent," he began, but she cut him off.

"Yes, as my agent, you have certain rights, but then again, you also work for me now, so if I say that I don't want you in the locker room when I am changing, then you have to listen to me. And you wouldn't want me to file a complaint with the League, would you? Because I know you want this job, and more importantly, you don't want to make your father angry. Am I right?"

He mouthed at her soundlessly for a moment, completely thrown off by the truth in what she said.

"Fine," he finally muttered, his hands in his pockets as he walked alongside her.

"I'm glad we cleared that up. Now, where is my sister and her friend?"

"On the field, being girls," he said, slowly recovering his brisk and arrogant attitude.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the cool hallway empty except for them.

"I'm surprised at you, you know," she spoke up after a minute or so.

"Why's that?" he asked, surprised that she was actually talking to him.

"I figured you would have at least some opinion of my flying," she said, shrugging.

"Would it really matter if I did? You wouldn't listen to me. Besides, you've got your father to listen to, and if anyone would have the faintest inkling as to how to change your flying, he would."

"Derek, even if I do dislike you, which I do, very much so, I would still listen to what you've got to say."

"You're just saying that," he said, trying to be a hard ass.

"No, I'm not. You're my agent, and it's part of my job to listen to you. Even if I don't like what you're saying. Which I generally don't, but that's not the point."

She could tell her words had an effect on him then. His step suddenly became more of a strut, even more so than usual. She just smiled and shook her head. She had no idea why her opinion of him mattered so much, but he was just another stupid boy. He had a lot of growing up to do yet, in spite of the fact that he was almost twenty years old.

They emerged out into the bright sunshine and found Belle and Mack laying on the perfectly manicured grass of the field, staring up at the clouds drifting lazily overhead.

"Are you two ready to go?" Charlotte asked them, watching them upside down as she stood over them.

They both jumped up and dusted their jeans off.

"We had fun, Charlie!" Mack said. "D'you think that we can come back again sometime soon?"

"I'll see. Our first match is coming up soon, so we can't afford any distractions now."

"It was nice meeting you, Derek," Belle said with a grin as they began to walk away.

Derek gave a nod. "I'll be in contact with you, Charlotte."

She gave a wave to indicate she heard him and took hold of both the girls before Disapparating with a _pop._

Derek stared at the spot that she had just vanished in. "What is it about her?"

* * *

Charlotte dropped Mack off and said hello to Ginny and Charlie before heading home with Belle. She found Hermione out in the garden, yanking up weeds the old fashioned way, without magic.

"You know, Mum, that's why we have wands," Charlotte said as she dropped to the grass and spread her arms out wide, soaking in the late afternoon sun.

Hermione smiled. "I grew up a Muggle. I like the effort."

Charlotte shook her head. "Aunt Ginny says hello."

"We have plans for her to come over tomorrow and have lunch. How was practice?"

"Pretty decent. Our first match is coming up against the Tornadoes in another week and a half. Ace was pretty pleased with my reaction time today, which is something. According to the others, he's really hard to please."

"That's great, Charlie. Is the match against the Tornadoes at your field, or at theirs?"

"I'm pretty sure it's here at home. I don't think we're away for another two weeks."

"Your father and I will definitely be there to cheer you on. Anything else exciting happen today?"

Charlotte bit her lip. "Um, they finally found me a permanent agent."

"Charlie, that's fantastic! Who is it?"

"Erm, well, you know his father."

"Oh really? Someone I went to school with?"

"You could say that."

Hermione was starting to get impatient. "Well? Are you going to tell me?"

"It's, erm, Derek Malfoy."

"WHAT?!?" Hermione's shrill exclamation rang throughout the yard.

Charlotte winced. Hermione's face went from shocked to indignant to angry in the space of about ten seconds.

"Derek Malfoy is your agent? As in, Draco Malfoy's son? As in, that insufferable boy that was Head Boy with you?"

"That would be the one, Mum."

"But, but, but," Hermione spluttered, looking completely beside herself.

"Mum," Charlotte said firmly. "I know that you loathe his father. And I know that you know that I dislike him almost as much as you dislike his father. But there's no reason why we cannot have a purely professional relationship. He's just there to represent me in the Quidditch community, nothing else."

Hermione looked slightly suspicious. "As I remember, that boy wanted more than a 'professional relationship' with you in your last year of school."

Charlotte frowned. "And you know that I wanted nothing to do with him."

Hermione looked at her for a long moment, then, for some reason that Charlotte could only guess, she began to smile.

"What's so funny, Mum?"

Hermione shook her head, still smiling, and went back to digging up weeds.

"Come on, Mum, don't leave me in the dark."

But Hermione only smiled mysteriously and continued her war against the weeds.

Charlotte made a noise of disbelief and pushed herself up off the ground.

"You had better lay the news to your father gently, Charlie. I'm not sure he'll take it as well as I did."

Charlotte snorted. "You call that taking the news well?"

Hermione waved her away, the smile still on her face. "And you've had an owl from Aeryn, by the way."

"Thanks, Mum."

Charlotte meandered her way into the cottage, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen as she passed through. She dropped her duffel bag in her room, waved at Belle as she passed by her room, and stuck her head in the door of Oliver's study.

He was sitting with his back to her, facing the fireplace. Presumably, he was talking with someone through the Floo network. Judging by the laughter that was going on, it was someone who wasn't that important, and Charlotte knew she could come in and not disturb the conversation.

She crept through the door and peeked at the fire. As she figured, Oliver was talking to someone close. It was George Weasley.

Charlotte took a bite out of her apple and snuck up behind her father's chair. She knew George saw her, but he always took ample advantage of scaring the daylights out of Oliver. So when she pounced on him, George simply roared with laughter as Oliver jumped about three feet in the air.

"Dammit, lass, are yeh tryin' to give me a heart attack?!" Oliver choked out, gasping for air.

"Hi, Dad!" she quipped in a charming voice.

"Hey, congratulations on the contract, Charlotte!" George exclaimed.

"Yer rotten to the core, Weasley," Oliver accused, glaring at the redhead in the fire.

"Who, me?"

"Yeah, yeh know what I'm talkin' about. Yeh knew she was there the whole time, and yeh didn' mention a word."

George chuckled. "Always gotta have one up on you, Ollie!"

"Me as well, Dad," Charlotte grinned, taking another bite out of her apple.

"How's the practices going for you Charlie?" George asked.

She shrugged. "Nothing to complain about. Just like Hogwarts, just a little more fast paced. But it's nothing I can't handle."

"Ah, those were the days, eh, Ollie? You used to keep our noses to the grindstone, remember? You made us practice in all those storms, and we all used to think you were secretly trying to do us all in. Yeah, those were the days."

Oliver nodded, a grin on his face. "Still, we had the best damn team of the school."

Charlotte allowed them a few seconds' reminiscence before clearing her throat. "So, they've found me a new, permanent agent."

They both looked at her.

"Someone decent, I hope?" George wondered.

"I highly doubt anyone could top Luna's capabilities, even if the lass is a bit overloaded," Oliver scoffed.

"Mmm, I think he's capable," Charlotte thought aloud.

"_He?"_ Oliver and George both said at the same time, their brows furrowing.

"Erm, yes. I have a male agent. Why, is that a problem?"

"That depends on who this git is," George said menacingly.

"Lass? Who is it?" Oliver said, the frown on his face quite obvious.

"Erm, well, Mum went to school with his father, and I'm pretty sure you know his father too, come to think of it, you probably know his son too. . ."

"Charlotte," both males reproved.

"Oh, all right. My new agent is Derek Malfoy."

Predictably, they reacted just the way she thought they would. Oliver immediately jumped out of his chair and started yelling, George's face turned bright red, quite an interesting sight, what with the fire around his head and the red hair, and they both had the air of murderous intent.

"How did that worthless pile of-"

"Dad!"

"Just wait until I get my hands on that git's slimy ass father!"

"Uncle George!"

"He's a dead man!" they both exclaimed, looking at each other with a wild-eyed expression.

"CUT IT OUT, YOU TWO!" Charlotte yelled as she chucked her apple into the fire, narrowly missing George's head.

They both stopped, astonished, and looked at her.

"There is no reason why Derek can't be my agent. He's perfectly qualified, even though I dislike him, I have no reason whatsoever why he can't be my agent. I've already laid down some ground rules for him, and he knows that he had best toe the line if he wants to remain my agent. As if the threat of Dad wasn't enough to keep him in line," she added as an afterthought.

"But, Charlotte, lass, be reasonable, yeh hated him in school!"

"I know I did. I still dislike him, but that doesn't mean that we can't maintain a thoroughly professional relationship."

"Charlotte, think of what your mum told you about his father," George implored.

"I thought about it in the beginning, and I know that what his father did has no reflection on his son, unless Derek knows the Dark Arts and would be willing to practice them."

"But he's a Malfoy!" they both practically howled.

Charlotte had to smile. "Then I guess you're both just going to have to learn to like a Malfoy."


	5. Chapter 4: Surprises and Innuendo

**Disclaimer:** Is there any way that I could possibly have the deed to Harry Potter handed over to me?

**A.N.** Chapter 4! Hurray! And even better, my school year is almost over!!!! Read, be entertained, enjoy!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter 4**

The next few days passed without incident for Charlotte. She went to practice every day and earned more praise from Ace than he had ever given to the others, according to Callum. In turn, she also found herself on the receiving end of bitter resentment from Turner.

"Don't worry about Grouchy-Ass, Charlie, he's just pissed because he thought he was Ace's favorite. Guess he got a rude awakening," Chase consoled her after practice, during which Turner screamed at her at least three separate times and had now reduced her to the verge of tears.

"Yeah, he's a stupid American, what does he know?" Marc said furiously, patting her on the shoulder.

Charlotte gave a great sniff as Turner stomped past her to the showers, giving her a filthy look as he went.

Pietro produced a white handkerchief for her with a sympathetic look. "Don't listen to him, Charlotte. He's an ass."

Just then, Ace stormed in. "TURNER!" he bellowed, catching sight of Charlotte's face.

Turner poked his head around the wall of the showers. "What?"

"Your ass, my office, NOW."

Callum smiled at Turner as he marched into Ace's office. "Finally, he gets what he deserves."

They stood together, listening to the snatches of Ace's yelling that permeated his office door.

". . .my team. . .don't know where you get off. . .take your American attitude and cram it. . .like hell you're gonna treat her like that. . .keep it up and you're GONE!"

The office door flew open and Turner stomped out, looking livid. The others stood around Charlotte protectively, glaring at Turner as he gathered his things and left.

Ace came out of his office, looking bad-tempered and red in the face. He rubbed a hand wearily over his face, looking tired.

"Wood, don't let him get to you. Don't let his big ego and foul mouth bring you down. You flew brilliantly today. You all did. We keep this up, and we've got more than a chance against the Tornadoes in two days."

Charlotte managed a small smile and wiped at a tear that had gathered in the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry, Ace. I tend to get overemotional sometimes. I swear it won't happen again."

"No worries. Just go home and get some sleep and take it easy. We need you at your prime for Saturday. Your performance is a reflection on my Captaincy, you know."

There it was. Typical of Ace to slip up and let his ego get in the way of what could have been a nice moment for them all. The guys all rolled their eyes and went back to their lockers, giving her reassuring squeezes of the shoulder as they went.

"I know, Ace, I know. I won't slip up."

Chase made a noise. "If we should be worried about anyone screwing up, it's that git that just walked out the door. I'll tell you what he can do with that Beater's bat of his. . ."

"Chase," Charlotte warned, grinning nonetheless.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You know what. Well, I'm off. Thanks, guys. I'll see you all tomorrow."

She walked out of the locker room and Apparated home, where Aeryn was already waiting for her, as promised by her owl the other night.

"You look beat," Aeryn commented as Charlotte emptied her duffel bag into the laundry.

Charlotte shook her head. "I'm not, really. I actually feel pretty good. The practices are hard, but I've been sleeping really well and all that. . ."

Aeryn shook her head as well. "Listen to you. You're a crazy fanatic. You're addicted. Charlotte, for Merlin's sake, you've become your father!"

Charlotte laughed as Oliver called from the kitchen, "I heard that!"

Aeryn, as agreed earlier, had brought her swimsuit, and after Charlotte had changed into her own, they both took their towels and strolled out to the beach to lay on the warm sand and enjoy the cool sea breeze.

"So," Aeryn said after a few moments of peaceful quiet.

"So."

"_Well?_ Don't I get details here?" Aeryn burst out.

Charlotte grinned slyly. "Details about what?"

"Dammit, woman, don't play dumb with me! I'm dying here! I want to know about all these puffed up, crazy, ridiculously good looking Quidditch maniacs!"

Charlotte sniffed derisively. "They're all right."

"All right? ALL RIGHT?! Charlotte! You're playing the game with them! You share a bloody locker room with them! And they're just _all right?"_

"Hey, you're the one that wrote the article about them, not me. I was under the impression you had a good idea as to what they were like."

"The only reason I had background info on them in the first place was because I had gotten a hold of all their bloody agents!"

Aeryn was clearly in agony now. Charlotte felt bad. "Okay, okay. Calm down. You want details, I'll give you details. Are you going to listen, or are you going to complain?"

Aeryn sat as still as a mouse, her mouth clamped shut, a look of total attention on her face.

Charlotte laughed. "Okay, well, I have to say they all are pretty easy on the eyes. And almost impossibly built. Marc, he's one of the Beaters, he's French, and you know how French people are generally small? Well, let me tell you. . ."

Charlotte went on in great detail about all the guys for more than a half an hour as Aeryn listened to every last bit. She was astounded that Charlotte had yet to fall for any of them, because in her opinion, they were practically gods that needed to be worshiped.

"Are you mad?!" she practically yelled as Charlotte finished describing all her guys.

"Mad? About what?"

"You could have any one of these guys, and you know it! The question is, why the hell have you not jumped at the chance yet?"

Charlotte shrugged. "It would be a bad idea. Imagine it Aeryn: the whole world knows your business, right down to what color underwear you're wearing. They would know if I was dating one of the guys, and then, if something happened, and we broke up, and it was bad, not only would the team be ruined and thrown into chaos, the rest of the world would be in chaos, and either would love me, or hate me, and either love or hate him. So there's no way that I would ever do something as stupid as date one of my teammates."

Aeryn shook her head. "Damn, Charlie. You've got this publicity thing nailed, and you haven't even been world famous for more than a week!"

Charlotte smiled. "Dad drilled it into my head when I was little. I've seen what it does. Remember the field day the press had when Dad had his accident?"

Aeryn nodded, remembering the insanity that had followed the couple of months after Oliver's career had been ruined by that Bludger.

"Maybe you're better off staying out of it."

"Besides, they're all insanely protective of me, so if one of them was to make a move. . .well, that is, except for Turner, he doesn't like me very much."

"Turner? The other Beater? What bug's up his ass?"

Charlotte shrugged. "I guess it's because he thinks that I'm Ace's new favorite, and he thought that he was always Ace's favorite. He doesn't like having competition, apparently. He screamed at me all through practice today. And you know how I get when stuff like that happens for no reason."

Aeryn nodded sympathetically. "Bastard had you reduced to tears, didn't he?"

"Yeah. But then Ace saw when he came in the locker room and called Turner into his office. He yelled at him for a good ten minutes. I'm pretty sure Turner hates me even more, if that's even possible. But all the guys hate him too. You should have seen the looks that they were giving him when he left. If looks could kill, I'm pretty sure he would have dropped in a second."

Aeryn sighed in disgust. "A stupid game can make a stupid guy even more stupid."

"Agreed."

They laid back in the sand, soaking up the last of the afternoon's sun. Aeryn agreed to stay for dinner, and Belle would come fetch them when it was ready.

It was quiet on the beach except for the quiet murmur of the waves and the occasional screech from the gulls overhead. The sand beneath them was pleasantly warm, as were the late afternoon rays washing over them.

"Hey, Wood!"

Charlotte jumped as though she had been shocked. She rolled onto her stomach to peer behind her at the intruder on their peace. And when she saw who it was, she jumped to her feet quicker than lightning, snatching her towel from the sand and wrapping it hastily around her.

Derek came strolling down the sand as though he had been there to see her thousands of times before.

"Lovely afternoon, isn't it?" he said once he had reached her.

"Derek! What-erm, why. . .um. . .What a surprise!"

He grinned at her obvious confusion and embarrassment. He noticed she was clutching her towel around her as tightly as possible, as though determined to prove that she wasn't laying out in a nicely revealing bikini moments before.

Aeryn stood up and wrapped her towel around herself as well. "I don't believe we've met, I'm Aeryn Callahan."

Derek took her extended hand. "Derek Malfoy. Charlotte's new agent. Didn't we go to Hogwarts together?"

Aeryn nodded. "Probably. You look familiar."

Derek smiled at the look on Charlotte's face as she glared at her best friend. "So what are you ladies up to this lovely afternoon?"

"We were enjoying our peace and quiet," Charlotte said rather pointedly. "Is there something that you needed me for?"

Derek grinned as her embarrassment became more peaked, once she had realized how badly what she had said could be interpreted.

'Oh, what I could say right now. . .she'd probably die on the spot,' he thought wickedly.

"Oh, well, you know, the League has certain papers that they need to be signed in order for me to officially become your agent. The problem is, they require your signature as well. So I thought I'd bring them by so you could sign them, and I can get them back to the right people as soon as possible, so, you know, there's no hitches or problems with my assignment."

"Problems? Such as?"

"Well," Derek said delicately, examining his fingernails, "they might say that I was foisted on you without your consent, and I'm sure you know what problems that could bring about."

Charlotte realized he was laying careful innuendo into his words and cringed slightly. She gritted her teeth.

"Of course. I don't want any problems. Where are the papers? I'll sign them right now so you can get them to the right people."

'And hopefully out of my hair,' she added to herself silently.

"Oh, your father's reading them over back at the house. He said he wanted to make sure that you were getting the best treatment possible."

'Why, why, why?' she whined in her head.

"And you're mother's invited me to stay for dinner," he added casually, watching for her reaction.

She tripped over a stick and almost nosedived right into the sand.

"What?" she gasped out, regaining her balance.

"Yes, she invited me to stay for dinner. She told me she would be delighted to have me, and told me I might as well, if your father was going to read over the papers thoroughly."

Charlotte raised her eyes to the sky with a fervent wish for some added patience at the moment.

'Just wait until Derek leaves. . .Mum is gonna get it,' she thought bitterly.

Aeryn kept shooting her friend sympathetic looks as they walked in silence back to the cottage. She knew that Charlotte was as uncomfortable as she could get at the moment, and finding out that Derek was staying for dinner was almost too much for her to handle.

"By the way," Derek said under his breath before they walked inside, "that's quite a smashing little outfit you've got on under that towel."

Charlotte's face went instantly red and she scampered inside, dragging Aeryn with her.

Derek chuckled to himself and followed the girls inside. The kitchen was full of delicious smells, and Hermione smiled at him as he appeared.

"Dinner's almost ready. I think Oliver's still in his study going over those papers if you want to just nip back there and see. I'll call you all when the food is ready."

Derek smiled his thanks and walked down the hall toward Oliver's study. He passed a closed door, which he assumed was Charlotte's room, as he could hear heated whispering going on behind it. He grinned to himself and continued on down the hall, where, as Hermione had said, Oliver was still sitting at his desk, frowning at the papers Derek had brought.

He looked up when Derek entered. "There's something I don't understand."

"Sir?"

He sat down next to the desk and Oliver pointed out the paragraph in question. Derek read it and reread it again.

"Oh, it just means that if, at any time, I have a reasonable suspicion that there might be some cheating going on with Charlotte on her part, say, for example, if she was taking Felix Felicis, then I would have the right to report her to the officials of the League. It's really nothing too horrible. And Charlotte would never do anything like that. She can get by on pure talent alone. I was watching her the other day when they first assigned me to her, and she's got talent like I've never seen before.

Oliver smiled proudly. "I taught her everything I know."

Derek nodded. "I knew her style was similar to yours just by watching her."

Oliver suddenly frowned. "Just so yeh know, Malfoy, I'm expectin' nothing more than a purely professional relationship between yeh two. Am I clear?"

Derek nodded vigorously. "Of course, sir. Nothing more, nothing less. You have my word."

Belle poked her head through the door. "Dinner's ready."

The two men followed Belle down the hall and into the kitchen, where Hermione had modified the table to accommodate two more people, and had managed to fit several large dishes and platters full of food on the table as well.

"Sit," Hermione ordered, pointing Derek to a chair right next to Charlotte.

Charlotte glanced up at him as he moved to sit down. He offered a small smile, which she didn't return. She distinctly felt her stomach jolt when he looked at her and tried to chalk it up to annoyance.

'Why couldn't Dad have just signed the damn papers and sent Derek on his way?' Charlotte whined in her head, shrugging off the odd feeling she had.

"Potatoes, Charlie?" Derek held out a bowl to her.

She took it with a muttered thanks and scooped some out before passing the bowl on to Aeryn, who was glancing at her questioningly, wanting to know if she was all right.

Charlotte smiled briefly and began to eat, hoping she could get away with not speaking to Derek for the rest of the meal.

"So, Charlie," Derek said after a few moments of silence.

'Fat chance,' she groaned to herself.

"How are we going to fair against the Tornadoes on Saturday?"

She took her time chewing her chops. When she swallowed, she took a great long drink of pumpkin juice before she decided she could no longer draw out the silence before answering.

"We'll beat them," she said simply.

Hermione and Oliver exchanged a look. Hermione could sense the obvious tension between Charlotte and Derek, but it was coming more from Charlotte than him. And Hermione had a pretty good idea why.

"How are you getting on with your teammates, then?" he asked innocently.

She looked up and caught the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

'He's rotten right to the core,' she grumbled miserably to herself.

"For the most part. Turner doesn't seem to like me very much, but I don't know why. I haven't done anything to offend him or anything like that at all. The rest of them all chalk it up to his horrible American attitude, but, I don't know."

At these words, Oliver set down his fork. "Turner's givin' yeh trouble, is he?"

Charlotte nodded innocently, chewing a piece of her chops.

Oliver's face slowly turned red. "I'll be a son of a-"

"Oliver!" Hermione said, giving him a stern look.

"I'll be seeing to it that he doesn't give you any more trouble than he already has caused, Charlotte. Mark my words, he'll be lucky if he gets to speak again at all," Derek said, muttering the last part under his breath.

"As long as yeh let me get in the first round, lad," Oliver growled.

"Dad, Derek, please, don't. Don't do anything stupid or rash or anything like that at all. I don't want to cause problems for the team, and we're doing so well right now. Not before a match. If anything, just talk to Ace. He's got Turner's number. He yelled at him for a good ten minutes today. Trust me, I'm fine. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

Neither of the men looked entirely reassured about the situation, but they let it drop nonetheless. The rest of dinner passed quite enjoyably, unless you count the fact that Derek was still sitting right next to Charlotte.

Finally, after Hermione's delicious treacle had been eaten, and the dishes cleared away, Oliver retrieved the papers and signed them for Derek. Charlotte heaved a great sigh as she helped Hermione with the dishes, which earned her a reproving look from her mother.

"Go walk him out," Hermione ordered her softly.

"What? Why?" Charlotte almost whined.

"Do. It. Now." Hermione gritted out, giving Charlotte a nudge in the ribs.

Charlotte cast her mother a disgruntled look and walked over to Derek, who was shaking hands with Oliver.

"I'll walk out with you," she said in a falsely sweet voice.

Aeryn gave her a smirk, which she ignored, and turned to walk out with Derek.

"Your mum knows how to cook quite a meal," he offered up as they walked out the door in silence.

"Yes, she does."

"Your dad's a pretty cool guy, you know."

"I know."

He tucked the papers away for safe keeping before he Apparated.

"Oh, and Charlotte?"

She turned around to face him again, wishing she was inside, and away from him. "What?"

"Any chance of me seeing that charming little outfit again?"

"You- !"

He Apparated on the spot, laughing fit to burst, the look on her face permanently ingrained in his memory.


	6. Chapter 5: Game Day

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know the drill. Not mine, with the exception of a few.

**A.N.** I'm on summer break now, so hopefully I'll have some more time to update more frequently. So here is Chapter 5. Hope you all enjoy!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Five**

Charlotte awoke quite abruptly on Saturday morning. All night long, she had been plagued by nightmares of her forgetting about the match against the Tornadoes, and having Ace scream at her in front of a huge crowd, telling her she was no longer a part of the team. And then of course, there was the almost constant nightmare of losing the match in different ways, almost all of them her fault.

She rubbed her eyes and groaned. With a quick glance at her alarm clock to reassure her that she was not going to be late to the warm up before the match, she got out of bed and stretched. The match was at two o'clock, and Ace wanted them there at eleven for an easy two hour warm up and then his half hour pep talk before the start of the match.

Charlotte padded down the hallway into the kitchen, where Oliver was, as usual, sitting at the table, reading the _Prophet_ and drinking his usual cup of coffee. Belle was reading the comics and absently playing with the milk left in her cereal bowl, and Hermione was pulling some freshly toasted bread from the toaster.

"Good morning, Keeper," Hermione said, smiling.

"Urgh," Charlotte grumbled.

Oliver looked up. "The paper's got good odds on yeh today, lass, don't worry. I have faith in yeh."

Charlotte managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Dad."

"Don't worry, Charlie, you're gonna win. How could you not? You've got the best team in the League!" Belle piped up.

"Here," Hermione said firmly, sliding a plate of toast and sausage across the table at her. "You need to eat."

"Do I have to?"

Oliver and Hermione both gave her looks that clearly said the subject was closed. Grudgingly, she took up a piece of toast and bit into it. It tasted like sawdust to her, but she managed to get the whole thing down and chased it with a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Thanks, Mum."

"Is your agent going to be at the game today?" Hermione asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Charlotte shrugged. "I would imagine so. Why?"

"Just curious. Perhaps he'll sit with us, happen he sees us in the crowd."

"Mum. . ." Charlotte almost whined.

"What?" Hermione asked innocently.

Oliver looked over at Hermione. "Bloody hell, lass, what are yeh gettin' at here?"

Hermione cast Oliver a disdainful look. "You're a male, you wouldn't understand."

Oliver looked slightly indignant. "I may bloody well be a male, but I do have a bit more brains than would fit in a teaspoon, thank yeh very much."

Charlotte and Belle giggled.

"Sure about that, Dad?" Belle dared to ask.

"How did I suddenly become the subject of this conversation?" Oliver asked, annoyed.

"When you made a spectacle of yourself, that's how," Hermione said lightly. "And I'm not going into the subject anymore with you. As I said, you're a male, you wouldn't understand, and even if you did, you would overreact entirely."

Oliver left the table five minutes later in a huffy sort of mood, allowing the door to slam behind him as he headed out to the broom shed, probably to vent his frustrations by polishing his already over-polished Nimbus broom handle.

"He overreacted anyway, Mum," Charlotte said, helping her mother clear off the table and put the breakfast things away.

"He's a male. Does that need any further explanation?"

"Fair point. Well, I have to go get my things together and then I have to be off. Ace wants an easy two hour practice before the game and then I'm in for a real treat, according to the guys."

"And what sort of treat would that be?"

"A half hour pep talk from Ace. At least, that's what he calls it. The rest of the guys call it Ace's half hour to build up his ego so it doesn't take too big of a hit if we lose."

Hermione hugged Charlotte. "You'll do just fine. Just remember everything you've ever learned from your father and from your teammates. You can't go wrong as long as you do your best. And that's all your father and I could ask for."

Charlotte hugged her back, hard. "I'll make you proud, Mum."

Ten minutes later, Hermione watched from the kitchen window as Charlotte gave Oliver a hug and Apparated off to join her team. Oliver walked back to the house slowly, his hands in his pockets, his eyes unfocused.

"What are you thinking of, Oliver?" Hermione asked when he walked through the door.

"My first match with Puddlemere."

Hermione hugged him around the middle. "She's going to be fine. She's got everything she's ever learned from you."

Oliver hugged her back, laying his cheek against the top of Hermione's head. "I hope so, lass, I definitely hope so."

* * *

Derek awoke on the morning of the first match filled with anxious energy. He didn't know why he was anxious; it wasn't like he was going to be playing in front of thousands of fans in a few hours. Maybe it was the idea that he was representing one of the biggest names to hit the Quidditch scene in almost ten years.

He stared at the ceiling for awhile before getting out of bed. He knew that whatever anxious energy he had, Charlotte probably had ten times worse. But still, the memory of her face before he had left her the other night still brought a smile to his face.

"I've got her right where I want her," he told himself.

He got up and went through his usual morning routine and then settled himself to a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee to accompany his reading of the _Prophet_. He read the headline news (typical bureaucratic garbage, nothing too interesting) and then got down to business with the headlining article in the sports section, written by none other than Charlotte's best friend, Aeryn Callahan.

He had to admit, for a woman, she knew her Quidditch material. Of course, it probably had something to do with the fact that her father had once been a famous name in Quidditch himself, and had played with Oliver Wood back in their day. Derek found that he rather enjoyed reading Aeryn's commentary on the latest Quidditch news, even if she was a woman.

He finished his breakfast and tossed the _Prophet_ in the garbage before glancing at the clock. He planned to get the playing field as early as he could, not only to make sure that Charlotte was all right, but to cover his own hide if there were any mishaps waiting to happen, such as any unfortunate incidents with reporters and the like. He knew Charlotte had no such experience in dealing with the press and knew that he would have to jump in to save her skin and his own if she happened to slip up and say something remarkably stupid, which, as he thought of it now, was a completely irrational thought. He knew as well as the next person that Charlotte was not your typical dumb, airhead girl. She had a good, level head on her shoulders, and, after seeing what her father went through when she was a girl, would probably know better than to slip up and say something stupid in front of the press.

"Stop worrying," he told himself firmly. "She is a Wood, after all."

His clock now told him that he was ten minutes later than he would have liked to have left, so, shaking his head, he grabbed his jacket and Apparated to the Quidditch field.

* * *

Charlotte stared at the tiled floor of the locker room, feeling very queasy and wishing that Ace would just shut up already. He had been droning on for more than twenty minutes about the future of the team, and more importantly, how important it was to win so that he could remain captain.

Callum nudged Charlotte in the arm. "You okay?"

Charlotte kept her mouth clamped shut, fearing her queasy stomach just might seize its chance to rid itself of her breakfast. She settled for a quick nod.

"Hey, Callum, want to keep your mouth shut while I'm giving the pep talk?" Ace said rather arrogantly.

"All I'm hearing is a load of waffle and a hell of a lot of ego boosting, Ace," Chase jumped in to save Callum, who flashed Chase a grateful smile.

Ace looked furious, but glanced down at his watch. "All right, you blokes, it's showtime."

"Don't forget the woman, Captain," Turner said sourly.

"Shut it, Turner," came the general reply.

Charlotte stood up, hardly aware that she was doing so. She felt like she was in a daze, and only dimly aware of what was going on around her. She shouldered her Firebolt like the rest of the guys did, and followed behind Callum out the locker room door and down the cool, dark hallway toward the field. She realized vaguely that she could hear the faint roar of the crowd outside as they walked silently down the hall.

Ace stopped just beside the door. The volume of the crowd had increased dramatically; Charlotte felt the vibrations in the pit of her stomach, which was still sloshing rather uncomfortably.

And then, the commentator began to call out the names of the team members. Ace soared out, grinning arrogantly, closely followed by Chase and Pietro, who were looking quite calm, then Turner and Marc blasted out, Turner looking haughty, Marc looking ready for battle. Callum flew out gracefully, like a bird, leaving Charlotte by herself, even if only for a second.

She heard her name called, followed by a huge roar from the crowd, and then, she jumped on her broom and zoomed out the door into the bright sunlight, feeling the rush of the wind in her face and feeling her fear trail away behind her.

"That's right, folks, Charlotte Wood, newly acquired Keeper for Puddlemere is, in fact, Oliver Wood's daughter! I do believe we have Oliver Wood and his wife here with us today in the stands, so let's give them a huge welcome!" the commentator yelled to the crowd.

The roar was almost deafening. Charlotte looked around in wonder as she soared above the masses, watching as people screamed themselves silly and stamped their feet, clearly happy to know that Oliver was in the stands today.

She soared back down to the rest of the team to listen to last minute instructions from Ace. Now that she was out here on the field, she knew no worry. She knew she just had to get the job done. And that's exactly what Ace told her.

"All right, Wood, it's up to you. Keep that Quaffle out of the goal and we'll be fine. You gents," he said, nodding to Turner and Marc, "keep those Bludgers away from her and the rest of the team. Callum, keep a sharp eye out. Catch that damn Snitch, but not too early. Chase, Pietro, just get the damn job done. Score like your life depended on it."

The whistle blew then, and Charlotte watched as Ace, Pietro, and Chase gathered around the referee, who was holding the Quaffle in one hand and had his whistle in the other. The Tornadoes Chasers, Worthington, Longhouse, and Ryan gathered on the other side of the referee.

"Get ready, Charlie, they're fast," Callum muttered under his breath, not taking his eyes from the group around the Quaffle.

She tightened her grip on her broom, feeling a bead of sweat slide down the back of her neck. It seemed like her brain was registering everything in slow motion; she watched as the ref brought his whistle to his lips at an agonizingly slow pace, and registered the blast of the whistle in a slow fashion as well. She felt the sudden waft of air to her left as Callum dove off through the air, fighting his way through the tangle of players. And just as suddenly, she zoomed off to her goal posts.

She managed a look behind to find Marc keeping close on her tail, watching for any Bludgers that might head her way, and looking for an excuse to smash one of them at the offending Chasers.

Chase had managed to get a hold on the Quaffle when the ref blew his whistle, and was now fighting his way to the opposite goal, weaving expertly through the confusing tangle of Chasers, Beaters, and Bludgers. He ducked a couple elbows trying to put him out of commission and looped one of the Beaters, who had his club raised as though he was going to smack the Quaffle out of his hands. He dove low to come up under the Tornadoes Keeper and took aim when the coast was clear.

"SCORE! AND IT'S TEN-NOTHING PUDDLEMERE!" the announcer screamed as the crowd's volume rose in an attempt to drown him out.

Charlotte grinned as she listened to the catcalls and jeering from the Tornadoes supporters. A second later, she was on her guard as one of the Chasers, Worthington, came flying at her, a look of concentration on his face as he clutched the Quaffle with all his might.

'Bring it on, pal,' she thought darkly as she hovered in front of him.

He took aim and feinted to the right, throwing for the left goal. She dove forward and caught it easily, grinning at his defeat.

"WOOD SAVES IT! STILL TEN-NIL, PUDDLEMERE!"

Worthington flew off, growling in defeat. She watched as Ace flew up to Pietro, giving him a high five. Callum still circled overhead, keeping his eyes open for the Snitch, which had proved to be illusive thus far.

Twenty more minutes of rough play had produced four more goals for Puddlemere, while the Tornadoes had managed to score just once. Charlotte misread Ryan's feinting to the left and he managed to put the Quaffle through the goal, gloating all the way.

"Guess girls aren't made to play Quidditch after all, eh Wood?" he taunted as he flew up to meet Longhouse for a high five.

Charlotte glared at him and watched as Marc took extra care to fly unnecessarily close to him, "tapping" him with his Beater's bat.

Charlotte shook her head at him when he turned to look in her direction, giving her a grin and a wink before he took off again.

"And it's Gonzalez with the Quaffle as he takes off for Keeper Monroe's goals. Looks like Gonzalez is setting himself up for a-I SAY, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT!"

Callum went into a dive from a hundred and fifty feet in the air. The crowd gave a collective gasp as they watched him dive like a bullet through the air, closely followed by the Tornadoes Seeker, Fredericks.

Pietro still kept at the Quaffle, zooming up to Monroe and catching him unawares as he took his focus off the goals for a second to watch Callum and Fredericks chase the Snitch.

"AND IT'S PUDDLEMERE'S GAME AS SEEKER CALLUM GENTRY SNATCHES THE GOLDEN SNITCH FROM UNDER FREDERICKS' NOSE!"

"Yes!" Charlotte cried, pumping her fist in the air and flying off to join the rest of the team, who slammed in on Callum yelling and carrying on.

"That's my boy!" Ace yelled, grinning and ruffling Callum's hair as they sank back down to the ground.

"Hey, don't forget about Charlie there Ace!" Pietro yelled, pulling her into a hug. "She kept the Quaffle out of the goals!"

"That's my girl!"

Charlotte laughed as they managed to touch back down on the ground, disentangling themselves from each other to yell and scream with the rest of the crowd.

Charlotte saw Oliver and her mother standing with Belle near the locker rooms, grinning ear to ear. Like a little girl, she ran to them, allowing them to pull her into a bear hug.

"You were amazing, Charlie!" Belle gloated.

"Charlie girl, yeh've made me proud. I couldna done it any better meself," Oliver said gruffly, hugging her extra tight.

Hermione grabbed her into a rib-crushing hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Charlotte."

"Wood! Locker rooms! Party! Come on!" Ace yelled.

She looked back at her parents and her sister. They all grinned at her.

"Go party. Just don't forget where you live, okay?" Hermione said.

Charlotte grinned and took off running, her broomstick shouldered as she joined the rest of the guys again.

The guys were all hooting and hollering as they entered the locker room, swearing in an elated fashion and acting like typical guys, complete with the chest bumping and hair ruffling. Charlotte dodged the hair ruffling from Ace and playfully socked Chase in the arm when he tried to grab her. She threw open her locker and stowed her Firebolt away as she yanked out some fresh clothes.

"Wood, you actually showering with us today?" Ace called playfully.

She shot him a look and grabbed her things, marching purposefully off to the showers. She averted her eyes when she walked in, as the others in there were baring it all. She walked to the end showerhead and yanked out her wand, magicking a shower curtain in place.

"Whatsa matter Wood? Afraid to look at us?" Turner called from the other side of the curtain.

"I wouldn't recommend touching the curtain, Turner!" she called back as she watched his shadow approach the curtain.

"Why's that?"

"Feel like sprouting a few extra appendages from your face?" she asked as she stripped off her shirt.

His shadow halted. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?"

The guys all laughed. Charlotte could only imagine the look on Turner's face as he turned away from her curtain and walked away.

"Nice one, Charlie!" Chase called.

She grinned as she ducked her head under the shower's spray, letting the water rinse away all the grime and sweat she accumulated through the game.

"Hey Wood!"

"Yeah Ace?"

"We're all going out afterwards to celebrate. You in?"

"Where we going?"

"Club in downtown London. Specializes in the wizarding crowd. You in for a little dancing and booze?"

Charlotte grinned as she rolled her eyes. She knew where this was going. "Yeah, Ace, count me in."

She listened to the hoots and whistling after she said she was in. She could just imagine what was going through each and every one of their twisted, perverted heads. She shook her hair out, letting the suds from her shampoo fly everywhere.

"Where's Charlotte?" came a new voice, very close by.

She frowned. 'Of course he'd be here. How could I forget?'

"Showering," came the general reply.

"Hey Charlotte!"

She wrapped a towel around herself, making sure she was fully covered before stepping out from behind the curtain.

"Yes, Derek?"

His eyes about fell out of his head when he saw her with nothing but a towel on. Apparently, so did the rest of the guys' eyes.

"Merlin's beard, Charlie!" Chase managed out.

Ace whipped around. "Hey Wood, whatcha hidin' under there?"

"Hey, sod off, you gits," Derek snapped, not taking his eyes off Charlotte.

She rolled her eyes. "You can put your eyes back in your head. It's a towel, you know, a little more covering?"

He shook his head a little and tried to get rid of the stupid look on his face. "Huh, yeah, right. So, good game out there today."

She shook her head, grinning. "Is that all you came in here for?"

Apparently, there was more to it than just a "good game" because he got a confused look on his face, clearly trying to remember what else he came in here for. She must have caught him off-guard by coming out with a towel on.

"Oh yeah. Uh, well, you know how I stayed for dinner at your place the other night?"

She nodded. "Vividly."

"Well, since I'm representing one of the biggest names in the League right now and whatnot, my parents seem to think that it's a big accomplishment for someone in my position, you know, just coming into the agency and all that, so they decided that they needed to meet the big name that I'm representing. In other words, you. And they want to have you for dinner tomorrow night," Derek managed to get to the point in a roundabout sort of way.

Charlotte had started around him to go back to her locker as he was speaking, but stopped abruptly when the invitation came out. She turned around to look at his face, which had a slightly bored, slightly hopeful look on it.

"Your parents want to have me for dinner?"

He nodded, trying to look nonchalant.

"It's a lie, Wood!" Marc called. "He just wants you to come over to his place!"

"Yeah, someone wants a little action!" Pietro called.

There was more whistling and catcalls from the guys. Charlotte just rolled her eyes.

"How do you put up with the lot of them?" Derek asked, glaring at Chase as he walked out of the showers.

She shrugged. "I manage. So about this dinner, what am I to expect here?"

He rolled his eyes. "Well, plan on wearing a skirt or a dress or something, because I know that my dear old mum is going to try and way overdo everything. Think fancy, like a restaurant, but at my parents' house."

Charlotte nodded. "Over the top, possible embarrassment to ensue. Great, what time?"

He grinned. She caught on right away how things would probably go. "Say, seven?"

She nodded as she walked to her locker. "Okay. I'll be there."

He followed her like a puppy. "So what are you doing tonight?"

Most of the guys were already dressed and were watching the scene with enthusiasm.

"He won't take no for an answer, Charlie, remember that," Chase joked.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going out to celebrate with the team. Why?"

He again adopted that look of careless wonder. "Oh, you know, I just thought maybe you'd like to go get some drinks or something."

She looked amused. "You can come with us, if you'd like. They wouldn't care."

"Of course we'd care! We don't want to share you with anyone!" Marc roared.

"You make me sound like I belong to you all," Charlotte mused.

"You do!" came the reply from the rest.

She shook her head, sighing. "I belong to no one. Now, all of you out while I get dressed. I mean it, out! Out, out, out!"

They all groaned but shuffled out anyway, casting looks over their shoulders as they went. Derek hesitated near the door.

"So I can go?"

She nodded. "Yes, now GET OUT!"

He grinned. "Sure you don't need any help with anything?"

"Derek, out!"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

As soon as the door was shut, she cast a locking charm on it and hurried into her clothes, just in case someone got the funny idea to break the charm and come in.

"Well, Charlie girl, this is going to be an interesting evening," she muttered as she adjusted her tank top and waved her wand to fix her hair.

She grabbed her things and stuffed them into her locker before slamming it.

"Here goes nothing."


	7. Chapter 6: Little Miss Saint?

**Disclaimer:** Do I really have to go through this every time???

**A.N.** Come on guys, over 100 hits on the chapter, and only 4 reviews? Pathetic, especially considering that I have almost 50 people requesting alerts when I update. Get with it, guys, I'm counting on you all to let me know what you like and dislike, so I know what to improve on.

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Six**

Downtown London at night was an experience. It was even more of an experience when you were standing outside a club with a bunch of pumped up, egotistical twenty-something year old guys who were looking to celebrate their win over the Tutshill Tornadoes in more ways than one.

Charlotte noticed there was a definite change in some of the guys' attitudes as they were standing outside the club, waiting for Ace to make his connection with the bouncer to get them in. Marc seemed to grow all the more larger and menacing, which was saying something, as he was already quite large as it was. Ace was almost unbearably more arrogant, looking around at the people around him like he was expecting to be mobbed by hundreds of fans who actually recognized who he was. Turner, being the stupid American that he was, merely tried to act all the more haughty and cool, clearly trying to pull off his best James Dean, and failing miserably, in Charlotte's opinion. The only one who seemed to be acting normally, aside from herself, was Callum, which wasn't really saying anything, because Callum was not one to show off or brag about his Quidditch talent. He was simply there to play the game and do what he loved.

Derek shifted slightly next to Charlotte. He couldn't help but glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She had surprised him by inviting him to tag along with the rest of the team to celebrate, and even more, actually accepting the invitation his parents had extended for her to come to dinner. Of course, he still had the image of her in nothing more than a towel plastered in his head permanently, but hey, he was guy, dammit, and he felt he was more than within his rights to have an image like that stuck in his head.

It didn't really help matters much for Derek that Charlotte had actually decided to dress like a girl for once. She had let her hair down for once, letting it fall in shimmering honey brown waves past her shoulders. She had on the slightest amount of makeup, which brought out her eyes more, which were now sparkling in excitement. She had put on a pair of low rise jeans, aptly fitted to her hips and backside, which Derek had instantly noticed, and a navy tank top with a silver star embellished across the chest.

Charlotte, having never really hit the club scene with Aeryn before, was now almost quivering in anticipation, eager to get inside and see what this club was all about. The music pounded on inside, and though they were standing outside, she could feel the sidewalk thrum with the beat. She began tapping her foot almost impatiently. This was a good beat, and though she wasn't much for dancing, she just wanted to get inside and start moving.

She felt Derek shift next to her and had to suppress a grin. She knew that he was feeling a little more than uncomfortable at the moment. She knew damn well that he had never really seen her act like a girl, more over dress like one. She remembered the look on his face earlier when she came out of the shower with a towel on, and again the look on his face when she finally emerged from the locker room, ready to go celebrate. His eyes had widened considerably as he took in her appearance, and though she was still learning to tolerate him, she couldn't help but feel a little appreciated at the moment. The guys on the Gryffindor Quidditch team back at school had only ever seen her as just another one of the guys, and she was pretty sure that's how she was viewed here with Puddlemere, with the exception of the perverted jokes that were directed at her.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She looked around to see a girl of about fifteen standing behind her, clutching a piece of parchment and a pen.

"Aren't you Charlotte Wood?" she asked, her voice quivering with nervous excitement.

Charlotte nodded, smiling at the girl.

The girl smiled back. "I just wanted you to know that I look up to you. I play Quidditch too, and when I get out of school, I want to get into the League just like you did. Do you think maybe I could have your autograph?"

She held out the piece of parchment and the pen, which Charlotte took.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Amelia Cook."

Charlotte smiled and scribbled a little note for Amelia before signing her name to the parchment. She handed it back to the girl with a grin.

"Good luck, Amelia, I'll be keeping my eye out for you in the next couple years."

The girl grinned and took off, vanishing in the growing crowd behind them. Charlotte turned back around to see Derek watching her with an odd look on her face.

"I'm surprised you did that," he said finally.

She looked taken aback. "Did what?"

"Gave that girl an autograph."

"Why wouldn't I?" Charlotte asked almost indignantly.

Derek looked at the huge crowd behind them. "I figured you wouldn't want people to recognize you. You really have no idea how big you are at the moment."

Charlotte looked puzzled. "I don't understand you."

Derek sighed. "Did you see how big the crowd behind us is?"

"Yes. . ."

"Think about it for a minute. Everyone behind you probably knows who you are, you've been in the papers so much the past week. If the girl recognized you, what are the chances that someone else very shortly will realize who you are, and in turn, realize who the rest of the guys are? The chances are very high, Charlotte, and you have no idea what a huge chaotic mess that could set off."

Charlotte chanced a glance behind her at the swelling crowd, trying not to catch anyone's eye. There was an enormous amount of people there, and Derek was right, someone probably would recognize her. But it didn't really bother her. She just didn't want to set off a huge mass of people.

She shrugged. "She was just a girl. I don't mind the younger ones so much. She was sweet. She just wanted a chance to talk to someone that she looks up to, and I'm proud to know that she looks up to me. It was the least I could do."

Derek just rolled his eyes and sighed. She gave him a dirty look and stuck her hands in her back pockets, tapping her foot again, waiting to get inside.

At long last, she heard Ace yell back to the rest of the team that they were in, and Charlotte almost gave a little skip of joy as she followed Chase and Callum inside the club.

The inside of the club was almost as dark as the street outside. The dance floor was off to her right, where a crowd of people was rocking to the beat of the music. A strobe light and other multicolored lights were going, giving the people a strange look as they moved with the music.

The bar was in front of her, with tables and chairs to her left. A majority of the chairs at the bar were filled by eager young men, clearly hoping to score big that night. Charlotte shook her head and hid her smile as she followed the guys up to the bar to order drinks. She looked around, taking in her surroundings while the guys all ordered.

"Hey Charlie, what do you want?" Derek yelled over the music, yanking her out of her musings.

"A gillywater," she yelled back, not taking her eyes off her surroundings.

She heard a lot of disappointed groans from the rest of the guys, who were clearly hoping to see her drink and "get loose."

She grinned as Derek passed her the glass with a shake of his head. "You come to a bar, and you order a gillywater?"

She smirked. "Just to start."

The guys all fanned out, Ace and Turner heading to the dance floor after downing a few shots of firewhiskey; Chase, Callum and Marc opting for a table in the corner, and Pietro looking undecided.

"What are you waiting for, Pietro?" Charlotte called to him.

He shrugged. "What are you gonna do?"

She looked around, thinking. "I think I'll sit for awhile."

Pietro nodded and followed her as she led the way to the corner, where the guys were sitting. Derek came tagging along as well.

"Where's the hard stuff, Charlie?" Chase asked as she sat down with her gillywater.

She shook her head. "It's coming. I thought I'd start small."

She didn't want to mention that she hadn't really drank before. She had tasted Oliver's firewhiskey once a few years ago, and didn't really enjoy the burning sensation as it went down, but tonight, she thought she could live with a little experimentation.

Derek glanced at her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his own firewhiskey.

"What?" Charlotte asked indignantly, annoyed that they were all looking at her.

He held out his glass in an offering. "Want a taste?"

She looked around at the others, who were watching her eagerly still. She looked back at Derek, still holding out his glass to her. He raised an eyebrow when she didn't take it.

With an aggravated sigh, she snatched the glass out of his hand and knocked the whole thing back in one gulp. She managed to keep herself from coughing as it burned on the way down, and set the glass down with a dull _thunk_ on the table. The guys were still watching her, but with quite a few raised eyebrows and more than one wide-eyed look of surprise.

"Damn, Charlie," Callum said finally, glancing at the empty glass as though to confirm he actually witnessed her knock the whole thing back.

Derek was looking at her with a small grin on his face. He was surprised, yes, but damn did he like a girl who could hold her liquor.

"Shall I go get more?" he asked teasingly.

She lifted her gillywater to her lips with a shrug. "If you wish."

He arched an eyebrow at her, but said nothing as he got up to return to the bar. She shook her head at his retreating back and took another sip of her gillywater, wishing it would take the slight burn away from her throat.

"I don't think I've ever seen a girl knock back more than half a glass of firewhiskey like that before," Pietro said in wonder.

She smiled. "I may be a girl, but there are some things that guys just don't give me credit for."

"Apparently so," Chase said, eyeballing the empty glass.

Meanwhile, out on the dance floor, Ace and Turner had been bouncing around with their glasses of firewhiskey, trying (and failing) to find a suitable woman to hook up with. They were both getting quite frustrated, wondering just how their Quidditch popularity was failing them. Turner happened to glance back at the table where the rest of the team was sitting in time to see Charlotte knock back Derek's glass of firewhiskey.

"Goddamn, would you look at that!" Turner said in surprise, whipping Ace around to see her drain the last of the glass.

Ace whistled low. "How full was that glass?"

"More than half."

They both shook their heads. Then Turner got a mischievous look on his face.

"What?" Ace asked, watching the grin unfurl on Turner's face.

"It's always the quiet ones," Turner said, still grinning as he took a drink.

"What do you mean, it's always the quiet ones?"

Turner gave Ace a disbelieving look. "Oh come on, Ace. Think about it. Little Miss Sainthood, knocking back almost a whole glass of firewhiskey. I'd bet my broomstick if she wasn't a little vixen in bed."

And with that, he gave a little toast in Charlotte's direction and knocked back the rest of his firewhiskey.

Ace turned to look at Charlotte, who was looking a little bold after draining her glass. If she could knock back that much and not even choke, he wondered just how much more she could handle. After all, she was a girl, and girls supposedly couldn't hold their liquor worth a damn.

"So are you in?" Turner was asking.

"What?" Ace turned to look at Turner, who was still grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Let's see just how much liquor Little Miss Saint can hold. And maybe I'll score big tonight."

Ace highly doubted that Turner would ever get to lay claim to Charlotte, as Turner generally resented her presence on the team, and Ace was pretty damn sure that Charlotte would rather tangle with a chimaera than climb in the sack with Turner. However, he did agree that it would be interesting to see just how drunk Charlotte could get, and how entertaining it would be to see the good girl that she was disappear under the influence of alcohol.

"I'll buy the first round," Ace said, leading the way to the bar.

* * *

Several rounds later (Charlotte had no idea exactly how many rounds later), she wasn't the only one feeling the affects of the firewhiskey. The whole team had gathered around the table, and now they were proposing the most ridiculous toasts to one another.

"To Marc, the biggest goddamn Frenchman I've ever seen, may your pectorals dance evermore," Turner said, referring to Marc's interesting talent of being able to make his pectoral muscles dance at will, jerking his glass toward Marc and sloshing a little over the side.

"To Turner, the most arrogant son-of-a-Bludger that ever walked the Earth," Ace roared.

"Nah, that title belongs to you, Captain Ass!" Chase slurred, slapping Ace on the back.

Charlotte giggled and took another sip of her firewhiskey, her hand a little unsteady.

Derek watched her in slight alarm as she continued to down more and more firewhiskey. He had found it all fun and games in the beginning, but now he was starting to worry a little. She was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, and he definitely did not want to give his mother any reason at all to start in on the criticism at dinner tomorrow night.

"Charlotte, don't you think you've had enough?" he asked her quietly, laying a hand on her arm.

She gave him a look and started giggling. "Since when do you care about my welfare?"

"You're gonna be sicker than a dog tomorrow. Remember, you're coming to dinner? And what will your parents say when you come home drunk?"

"Ah," she waved a hand through the air and almost fell off her chair. "What they don't know won't kill them."

Derek could hardly believe his ears. "Charlotte, please, I really don't think you should drink anymore. . ."

"Let's go dance!" Charlotte suggested brightly, standing up from her chair and almost falling over it.

She led the way to the dance floor and the rest of the team followed. Derek just sat there, watching her go, hoping to Merlin that she was going to remember everything that happened tonight and hoping that she would regret ever laying eyes on firewhiskey.

Derek glanced at his watch. It was nearly one in the morning. He wondered how he was going to get Charlotte out of the club without causing a scene. It was all he needed for one of the Wizarding tabloids to catch Charlotte partying as hard as she was tonight. They'd have a field day.

He had a sudden idea. Glancing at his watch again, he wondered how long it would take him. Still, it was better than anything else he could thing of. He scanned the dance floor for Charlotte, making sure that she was still around and hadn't gone off with some bloke to make a fool of herself.

"I'll be back, you crazy girl. Don't go anywhere," he muttered, hoping she'd pick up on his brain waves as he Apparated out of the club.

* * *

Aeryn looked sleepily bewildered when she answered her door and found Derek Malfoy standing there, hands in his pockets and looking incredibly sheepish and sorry.

"Derek Malfoy? What the hell. . .? It's almost one thirty in the morning. . ." she said, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"I know, and I'm really sorry Aeryn, but it's Charlotte."

Aeryn lost a bit of her sleepy look as her look turned more to worry. "Charlotte? What's the matter?"

"The team took her out to celebrate," Derek said simply, his mouth pulling into a taut line.

Aeryn rolled her eyes. "Oh Merlin. Okay, I know what's going on. Come inside for a minute, and give me a second to get dressed. I'll come with you."

Derek stepped inside and shut the door as Aeryn hurried off to change into some clothes to accompany him back to the club.

Moments later, she came scurrying back out, wand in one hand, shoe in the other. She hopped the last few steps to the door as she tugged her shoe on, then shooed him back out the door.

She took hold of his arm after locking her door. "Lead the way."

With a _pop_, he Apparated them both back to the club.

* * *

Charlotte didn't know what possessed her to drink so much, but dammit, she was having too much fun to care at the moment. The music was pulsing through her, making her move in ways that she was sure in a normal state she would have never been able to pull off. But she didn't care. She was here to celebrate, and that's exactly what she was doing to the fullest.

There were guys all around her, clearly hoping to get some action. But she paid them no mind, she just moved with the music. She preferred to dance partnerless anyways. Guys were always there to paw, to pull, to try to make things go their way. Charlotte didn't like that; it was her way or no way.

She kept shrugging off the hand that kept pulling on her shoulder, getting annoyed because the hand, and the person it belonged to, wouldn't leave her alone. Finally, having just about enough of the pulling hand, she spun around, not losing the beat of the music, and found herself face to face with none other than Turner himself.

"Turner?" she questioned blankly.

He placed his hands on her hips, trying to draw her closer. "Dance with me."

She tried to jerk away from him. As drunk as she was, she realized how much more drunk Turner was. But even in a drunken state, Turner was still stronger than her, and he wasn't letting her get away so fast.

"Come on Charlotte, dance with me," he slurred, trying to pull her even closer.

"Turner, knock it off! I don't want to dance with you!" Charlotte said, angry now as she tried to shove him away.

He was getting annoyed. "Why don't you want to dance, Charlie? You're doing a damn fine job on your own. Why not let me show you what a good time you could have dancing with me?"

"She said no, Turner. What part of that don't you understand?"

Both of them turned around to see an equally pissed off Derek standing there watching the scene, Aeryn by his side.

Turner gave a derisive laugh. "Go back to Mommy and Daddy where you came from, Rich Boy."

Charlotte realized through her drunkenness that Turner had just said the wrong thing. Derek's face contorted in fury, and a second later, he swung out, hard, connecting solidly with Turner's jaw. Turner spun around and fell to the floor.

Aeryn skirted the drunk man and grabbed Charlotte's arm. "Come on, I think you're coming home with me."

Charlotte allowed Aeryn to pull her off the dance floor as Derek took care of business with Turner.

"Listen here, you slimy bastard. If I so much as catch you looking at Charlotte again, I'll knock your bloody head off. Keep your paws off her and show a little respect, asshole."

Derek stalked off as the rest of the team converged on the fallen Turner. He caught up with the girls outside the club, where Charlotte was leaning against the brick wall and Aeryn was calmly berating her for getting so drunk. Charlotte managed to look ashamed of herself.

"Come on, Aeryn, let's just get her to bed so she can start sleeping it off," Derek said wearily, pulling one of Charlotte's arms over his shoulder.

Aeryn nodded and took Charlotte's other arm around her shoulders. Together, they managed to Apparate her back to Aeryn's flat and navigated her down on the couch, where Aeryn covered her with a blanket. Charlotte was asleep within minutes.

Aeryn walked Derek to the door. "Thank you for coming to get me. It was sweet of you to make sure she didn't get into trouble."

He shrugged. "I didn't want something to happen that would make her regret tonight or screw things up for her any other way, you know?"

She nodded. "The press, especially, can be brutal."

"Yeah. Well, good night, Aeryn."

"Good night, Derek."

* * *

Charlotte was shaken awake at noon the next day with a blinding headache and a nauseous stomach.

"You know, I could be a bitch and make you suffer, but believe it or not, I have some pity on you," Aeryn said grimly as she handed Charlotte a cup full of tea.

Charlotte took it as she sat up, wincing at the movement. "What's in it?"

"Something to make the headache and the nausea go away. You know, just when I thought you actually were a levelheaded person, you go and do something as stupid as this. What's with you?"

Charlotte hung her head. "I don't know what came over me. I guess I just wanted to fit in with the guys, to make them like me. They were already ragging on me for not drinking in the first place. I thought I'd be smart and just get a gillywater to begin with, and maybe just have a glass of firewhiskey later. But no, I let Ace and Turner talk me into rounds. Merlin, how stupid could I be? Turner and Ace talked me into it? I must be an idiot."

Aeryn shook her head. "Yeah, well, unfortunately for you, Charlie, I just got word from Derek that there's been a press conference called for the team at two this afternoon so the press can find out all about the win yesterday. And you have to present yourself as somewhat of a not-hungover Quidditch superstar."

Charlotte groaned and buried her head in her pillow.

"And I contacted your mum first thing this morning to tell her that you were with me, so she wouldn't worry."

Charlotte sat up. "Did you tell her about last night?"

Aeryn shook her head. "No, but you're going to have to go home and get ready for this press conference shortly. It's almost noon, and Derek said he'd be by your place at about one thirty to collect you. So drink your tea and do what you can to make yourself look a little better than what you do, because trust me, you look like hell."

Charlotte grimaced as she put the tea mug to her lips. "Thanks Aeryn. I knew there was a reason you were my best friend."

Aeryn grinned. "That's what I'm here for, moral support."

Charlotte drained her tea hurriedly, then went to Aeryn's bathroom to scrub her face clean and to comb back her hair a little. Aeryn was right, Charlotte looked rather peaky; she had dark circles under her eyes and was rather pale. Charlotte figured she could chalk it up to a late night and lack of makeup when she arrived home.

She straightened her clothes as she walked out of the bathroom, calling a goodbye to Aeryn and a thanks for putting up with her before she Apparated home.

Hermione was in the kitchen when Charlotte appeared, looking startled to see her mother standing there.

"Hi, Mum," she said nervously.

Hermione smiled and moved forward to give her a hug. "Aeryn Flooed us this morning to tell us that you were with her. How was your night?"

Charlotte hugged her back and let go quickly. "Oh, you know, went out with the guys for a little while, had a few drinks, went home with Aeryn. Derek must have Flooed Aeryn when I was still asleep, because apparently there's a press conference at two this afternoon and I have to be there."

Oliver walked in. "Press conference, eh?"

Charlotte nodded, moving toward the hallway. "Yeah, Derek said he'd come to collect me at one thirty, so I had better go shower and get changed. Oh, and Derek said his parents have invited me to dinner tonight at seven, so is it all right that I go?"

Oliver and Hermione exchanged a look.

"Dinner with the Malfoys?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

Charlotte looked worried. "I know, I have no idea what to expect."

"Well, be prepared, because his mother is a quite a pain in the ass," Hermione said grimly.

Charlotte and Oliver both looked at her, shocked.

"Well, she is," Hermione said, shrugging.

Charlotte looked at the clock and gave a little jump. It was a quarter to one. "I have to go shower! Derek will be here soon!"

"You're coming back here before going to dinner with him tonight, right?" Hermione called down the hallway after her.

"Yes! He said I had better wear a skirt or dress because his mother was sure to do things well over the top!" she called back.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That sounds exactly like Pansy."

Oliver grinned. "Yer not worried about the lass, are yeh?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not about Charlotte, no. I just wish her the best kind of tolerance for tonight. She's like me; she won't put up with Pansy for too long once she sees how Pansy can act."

Oliver gave a chuckle. "I'd love to be there to witness it."

Hermione grinned. "As would I. I'm sure we'll hear all about it."

* * *

So there you have it. Now go review, and let me know what you think! 


	8. Chapter 7: My Dirty Little Secret

**Disclaimer:** Hey, did you guys here that Jo sold me the rights to Harry Potter?

**A.N.** So, I went and got myself a job. Yaaaay! For me, anyways, but don't worry, I'm not working God-awful hours or anything, so I'll be able to update at about the same pace as I've been going. You guys did a little better with this last chapter, something like 6 reviews and well over 100 hits. Can we step it up a little more? I know more of you are reading than you let on, so don't be lazy. Enjoy!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Seven**

Charlotte jumped into the shower and turned the water as hot as she could tolerate it. She stood under the hot spray, letting the water rinse away the remnants of her hangover. She would never, _ever_ do something as stupid as last night again. Not when she had seen what alcohol can do to a person.

'How could you do something as stupid as that, you idiot?' she berated herself. 'You saw what alcohol did to Dad when you were little. You saw what the bruises looked like on Mum. And you go and get absolutely plastered off your ass! What were you thinking?!'

Charlotte leaned against the shower wall and hung her head, squeezing her eyes against the guilt welling up in her. She had sworn a long time ago that she would never end up like her father, not after seeing the bruises on her mother, not after being hurled against a wall at the age of six like some kind of rag doll. The painful memories served as a lesson to her. She and alcohol simply were not a good combination, especially now when the whole world knew her business. She could only hope that the press hadn't spotted her last night. If they had, she was in for a rude awakening at the press conference shortly.

She stepped out of the shower feeling slightly more awake, but feeling the guilt twist in her stomach quite painfully. Her mother would be so disappointed in her if she found out about her drinking. Oliver would lecture her about the responsibilities that come with being in the public spotlight, and then Hermione would remind him that he too had once been in the same position as Charlotte. And then the two would remind her that no matter what she did, they would love her very much, which would only reinforce the horrible guilt that Charlotte was feeling.

Charlotte shook her head and combed her wet hair out. Whatever guilt she was feeling, she had to put it aside to deal with the press in a thoroughly professional manner. Not to mention that she had to keep herself calm and collected for dinner with Derek's parents later.

Dinner with Derek's parents. She cringed at the very thought. She could only hope that the rest of her hangover was gone by then and that they wouldn't be able to suspect a thing. Of course, if the press had picked up on her partying, she was a goner no matter what. But, as neither Hermione or Oliver had mentioned anything about reading about her partying in the paper this morning, she figured she was safe, for now.

She pulled on her black and white pinstriped pants and buttoned up her favorite white blouse with the delicate pearl buttons. She wiped away the condensation in the mirror to get a good look at herself. She still looked a bit peaky, and the dark circles under her eyes refused to go away, but it wasn't anything that a little foundation couldn't fix. Her hair was starting to dry in crazy ringlets, but with a wave of her wand, the curls tamed themselves into a decent mass of honey brown ringlets, minus the frizz.

She stepped back to look at herself in the mirror with a sigh. Whatever she did, she knew she wouldn't look one hundred percent her best. A night of drinking will do that to a person, she decided, which was why she was never going to do it again. She could only hope that nobody would pick up on her less than normal appearance.

She hung up her towel and brushed her teeth, getting rid of the horrible taste left in her mouth from a combination of the alcohol, the tea, and the hangover potion that she had drank this morning. As a precaution she swilled some mouthwash as well.

She left the bathroom and went back to her room, digging through her closet for her best and most comfortable pair of black heels. She found them hiding under a mountain of discarded outfits that she'd been meaning to hang back up and slipped them on, pacing the room a couple times to get used to walking in heels again. She then went to her jewelry box to find her pearl earrings and the pearl necklace that Hermione and Oliver had bought her for her birthday a few years back and sprayed herself a few times with her best smelling perfume.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Derek was due to arrive at any time. She silently thanked both him and Aeryn for dragging her out last night when they did.

"Charlotte! Derek's here!" Belle called down the hall.

"Coming!" she yelled back, checking her reflection one last time before leaving her room.

She almost tripped over her feet as she walked into the kitchen, where Derek was standing talking to Hermione and Oliver. They all turned around when they heard her come falling in, sounding more like a horse than a normal human being trying to walk in heels.

"I tripped," Charlotte said shortly in response to the raised eyebrows in her direction.

"Not quite cut out for heels, eh, Charlie?" Derek asked, smiling slightly.

"I'd like to see you men walk around in them for a day and tell me how it feels," she said, walking carefully around the kitchen table to where they were all standing near the door, but nevertheless smiling.

He regarded her carefully for a moment, as if silently checking to see if she was all right after last night. She offered him a brief smile before turning to kiss Hermione and Oliver good bye.

"Jus' don' say too much, lass," Oliver warned as he hugged her. "Don' say more than yeh have to, trust me."

"I won't," she promised, kissing him on the cheek before stepping back to walk out the door with Derek.

"She'll be fine. I'll be right there with her," Derek said with a smile.

Charlotte rolled her eyes a bit but waved good bye before they Disapparated to the press conference.

She was still a bit unsteady on her feet when they reappeared in front of a large building somewhere in the middle of downtown London. Derek grabbed her arm to keep her from falling flat on her face.

"Thanks," she muttered, straightening her shirt and fixing her somewhat mussed hair.

"Sure," he said, keeping an eye on her. "So, how are you, erm, feeling from last night?"

She gave him a bit of a sharp look before replying. "Aeryn gave me a bit of a hangover potion this morning, but my head still aches a bit."

He nodded and they walked into the building in silence. After a few minutes though, Charlotte couldn't stand it any longer.

"So how good did it feel to hit Turner?"

He turned and grinned. "Too damn good. He was asking for it."

Charlotte nodded, a little more serious. "If you hadn't been there though. . ."

Derek shrugged, as if to say it was nothing. "I know."

"But really, Derek, I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there when you were. Turner's a lot bigger than me, and stronger."

Derek's eyes became distinctly colder, which shocked Charlotte for a moment. Even if she didn't remember much from last night, she remembered the look of cold fury in Derek's eyes when he had hit Turner. The look in his eyes now was almost scary.

"Derek," she said quietly, laying a hand on his arm to try to rid his eyes of that look, "thank you."

He stopped and looked her straight in the eyes. "Just swear you won't do something as stupid as that again."

His tone of voice left her slightly taken aback and hurt. But she knew that it wasn't just her job he was worried about. If she screwed up, he was going down with her.

"I won't," she said softly, looking down at her feet. His cold disappointment was almost as hard to bear as her parents' would be.

She followed him into a small room, where the rest of the team, plus Aeryn, was waiting. The only ones who looked as though they were feeling very normal and uninebriated were Callum and Pietro. Ace looked a little worse for wear, his face slightly ashen and his eyes squinting as though the light was too bright for him to bear. Turner, Derek was pleased to see, was sporting a bruised and puffy jaw. He glared at Derek and Charlotte when they walked in, but otherwise said nothing.

Aeryn hugged Charlotte when they walked over. "Feeling better?"

"A little," Charlotte whispered, hugging her best friend tightly.

"All right, you gents, listen up," Aeryn called out, waiting for them to gather around her. "Here's how it's gonna play out. You're to sit at the table and act like gentleman. No horseplay, no smart mouth answers to the questions. Keep it short and sweet. Give them what they want, but not too much. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but given past behavior by a certain few," she gave a pointed glare in Turner's direction, "I thought I'd give you all a heads up. Understood?"

There was murmured agreement from everyone all around.

"All right, then go out there and sit down, the press will be in shortly."

The guys all filed out silently, quite unusual at any other time, but quite understandable given the night they all had.

Derek tugged on Charlotte's arm as she made to follow them out. "I'll be in the very front, where you can see me. If you're unsure about a question and whether or not to answer it, just glance my way and I'll give you a clue, okay?"

She nodded and gave him a small smile, his disappointment still slightly painful. She walked out into the bigger conference room and sat down next to Callum at the end of the very long table that had been set up. There were water glasses in front of each of them, as well as nametags identifying them all. Charlotte took up her water glass and looked out at the room. It was a typical set up, rows and rows of chairs stretching all the way to the back of the room, with tags identifying where each reporter should sit. She could hear the distinctive buzz of almost a hundred reporters on the other side of the double doors at the very back of the room, and felt a nervous tingle in her stomach.

"Worried?" Callum asked her quietly, watching as her hand trembled slightly on her water glass.

"A little," she admitted, setting the glass down when she realized her hand was shaking.

"Don't be. As far as I saw last night, there were no reporters in the club. At least, not that I noticed. If it comes up, just don't answer any questions. Tell them anything you like, that they're mistaken or something. Unless they've got proof, they've got nothing. Once you're in the game long enough, you start to learn the ways of the world, or at least, the nifty little world that the press tries to create," Callum added with a slightly twisted smile.

"Thanks, Callum. I notice you don't seem to be as bad off as some of the others," Charlotte said with a nod toward the end of the table, where Ace was sitting with his head in his hands.

"I had a feeling about where things were headed last night, so I kept chasing the firewhiskey with water. I also keep some of that hangover potion with me when I know we're going out to celebrate. Just slip a little in with my water and I'm set for the night," he said with a grin.

"Slip some my way next time, won't you?" she said quietly as the doors opened with a clatter and the reporters started to stream in.

"Sure thing, love."

It took a good ten minutes for all the reporters to settle themselves in and quiet down, their various magical recording devices out, cameras at the ready.

The first few questions were directed at Ace and what he thought of yesterday's performance by the team as a whole, and some of the individual performances. Quite a few asked what Ace thought about Charlotte's performance, and to her relief, he had nothing to complain about. Some raised the question whether or not the goal she let in was an indication of how her future performance might be.

"Look, she may be Oliver Wood's daughter, but everyone's entitled to a slip up every once in awhile. I'm sure Oliver himself would agree!" Ace said rather tartly when several reporters wouldn't let the issue drop.

Charlotte grinned a little.

"But can we really contribute her talent to Oliver Wood?" a reporter spoke up.

The noise level in the room dropped a little.

"And by that you mean?" Ace asked, frowning a little.

"Well, whether or not you're aware the Charlotte Wood really isn't Oliver Wood's daughter remains to be seen," the reporter said with a sly smile.

Charlotte drew a breath. Was this going where she thought this was going?

"What's your point?" Chase spoke up, glaring at the reporter.

"Only that her performance can't be entirely contributed to Oliver Wood's talent. It's not like she inherited his genes or anything, as she's not his biological daughter. Did you know that her mother, the same Hermione Granger that helped Harry Potter in his quest to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was married to another man before she was married to Oliver Wood?"

There was an uprising in muttering going on in the room.

"Oh yes, that's right, folks, Charlotte Wood is actually Charlotte McAllister. Her father was a drunk and used to beat her and her mother. Oliver Wood did them a favor by stepping in and trying to help. Matt McAllister was killed by Charlotte's mother in self defense when Charlotte was six years old."

The noise was rising in the room, but Charlotte only heard a dim buzzing. How did this reporter find all this out? And more importantly, why was he bringing all this up?

"Oh yes, her real father was a drunk, but that apparently doesn't stop Charlotte herself from indulging in the booze," the reporter said maliciously, his eyes glittering in her direction.

"What are you talking about?" Ace tried to sound tough, but the look on his face said he was worried.

"After yesterday's win, your team went out to celebrate, correct?"

Ace sat up a little straighter. "We went out, yes, but what business of yours is that?"

"I think it's the public's business if the star Keeper of the team is going out and drinking herself silly."

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof?" Chase said angrily.

The reporter looked a little taken aback. In his haste to make Charlotte out to be some kind of fool, he had forgotten about getting proof.

Aeryn stepped in hurriedly before things could get out of hand. "Thank you all for your time and cooperation, this conference is now over."

Charlotte stood up quickly and walked to the door leading out of the conference room, trying to keep her tears back as best as she could. She could hear her name being called behind her, but if she stayed in the room for a second longer, she was going to lose it completely.

She ran down the hall a short way and found an empty hallway where she was guaranteed some privacy for the moment. She leaned against the wall and covered her face, letting her tears fall freely. That reporter had just tried to cut down her career from under her for no reason at all. And exposing her dark family past for the whole room to hear as though she had no feelings at all!

Her shoulders shook with the sobs she was trying to hold back. Her family past was about to become known worldwide. Come tomorrow morning, the whole world would know that Charlotte's real father was a drunk, and that she may or may not have participated in a night of drinking. She might as well be clearing out her locker now.

She felt ashamed of her background. Matt had been a drunk and had abused both her and her mother, and now the world was about to find out. They might be sympathetic to her, but what about her mother? Hermione was the one who had killed Matt out of self defense. And even with that under her belt, some people just didn't look kindly upon others who had killed a person, whether in self defense or not. What might the world have to say about Hermione now? And what would they say about Oliver, who had married Hermione mere months after Matt had died?

Charlotte cried harder. All this was going to come back to hurt not only her, but her mother and Oliver, who was more a father to her than Matt ever was. And it was all her fault. A little night of fun was going to come back to haunt her forever.

Charlotte gave a little gasp when she felt strong arms wrap themselves around her, pulling her in to lay her head against a strong chest as she cried. She knew it was Derek, and she cried harder when she remembered the cold disappointment in his voice earlier.

"Don't cry, Charlie," he said softly, hugging her tighter.

"I'm sorry," she choked out through her sobs.

"Sorry for what?"

"Ruining your career," she choked out again.

"You didn't ruin my career. And yours isn't over either. That bastard was just trying to discredit your talent. He's just jealous. He used to be an agent, but when the guy he was representing turned into a wash up, he was forced out of the agency. He's just bitter, that's all."

"But the whole world's going to know about my father!" she gasped out through a fresh wave of tears.

"No, they're not," Derek said firmly. "Aeryn threatened them all. If they print it, she will personally hunt them down. There's no proof of what you did last night, and if they're trying to discredit you, it's something like slander, and they can get in big trouble for it, which Aeryn so kindly reminded them."

She raised her head to look at his face. His eyes were troubled, but she saw the truth in them. She gave a little hiccup and reached up to wipe away her tears. She had gotten his shirt all wet, and she was now feeling quite embarrassed.

"I'm sorry I got your shirt all wet," she mumbled, wiping around her eyes, hoping her mascara hadn't run all over the place.

"Charlotte," he said in the same firm voice.

She didn't want to look him in the eye. "What?"

He tilted her head up to meet his eyes. "You don't have to apologize. You were upset. I would be too. It's fine."

Charlotte nodded, now feeling ridiculously stupid. No matter what he said, she was going to feel incredibly stupid for the rest of the day.

"Think you're going to be all right now?" he asked her as they walked out of the building and into the bright sunlight.

She nodded as they walked along. "I just don't understand why that guy was trying to cut me down."

Derek shook his head. "He's a right cad. Don't pay any attention to it. The tabloids will try to do it too. Just hold your head up high and go about your business. Unless there's proof, they've got nothing."

Charlotte glanced at the clock hanging from the corner building. It was hard to believe that the whole fiasco had taken an hour. It felt like much longer to her. She didn't realize that she had sighed, but Derek heard it.

"What's wrong?"

"Hmm?" she answered absently, watching the children play in the park across the street.

"You sighed. You only sigh when there's something wrong."

"What? Oh, nothing. Really. Just thinking about joining you and your parents for dinner later, I guess."

He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, if you're envisioning a perfect evening, I wouldn't. I know my mother's going to open her big mouth at some point, so be prepared."

She smiled at him. "I guess I'll reserve my judgment until I get there."

He looked slightly nervous about the whole thing. "You know, you don't have to do this. I didn't expect you to want to come when I asked you."

She pretended to be offended. "Really, Derek, do I look like the type of person who would decline a dinner invitation because we've had our differences in the past?"

"Well, no. . .but-"

"There's no but's about it. I may have disliked you a tad bit in school-"

"A tad bit? You loathed me with a passion!"

She gave a small smile. "Well, I may have ignored you a bit."

He chuckled. "You call giving me the cold shoulder the entire year, despite the fact that we were both Heads and therefore had to live together, ignoring me a bit?"

She sniffed. "I had work to do."

"Oh please. So did I."

She smirked. "Funny, I don't recall you ever sitting down to crack a book."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Besides inheriting my dear old father's good looks, I must have got his brains as well."

She snorted. "Sure, Derek."

"I did!"

She laughed. "Okay. I'll go with it. In the meantime, I told my parents that I would be back after the press thing was over. So I'm assuming you're coming to get me for this dinner at seven?"

He nodded. "I'll be there. Just remember to wear a skirt or something, so my mother doesn't have a reason to start in on you right off the bat."

"Yes, sir." she saluted him before disappearing into an alley to Disapparate.

She didn't notice the slightly disappointed look on his face that she had left him.

* * *

"You would think," Charlotte said in an exasperated voice, "that four hours would simply drag by."

Belle sat on Charlotte's bed, watching her older sister struggle with her hair. "I thought your hair looked fine the way it was, Charlie."

Charlotte cast her hair a scornful look. "But I couldn't very well go to dinner at the _Malfoy's_ with just a simple hairstyle. Derek said his mother would be looking for a reason to disparage me."

Belle shrugged. "Maybe you should have started sooner."

Charlotte sighed as she stabbed a bobby pin into place, hoping it would hold her thick hair. "I didn't think my hair was going to be this difficult. What time is it, anyway?"

Belle glanced at the alarm clock. "It's ten to seven."

Charlotte gave a little yelp. "No!"

Belle nodded sympathetically. "Do you want some help?"

Charlotte looked at her sister's reflection in the mirror. "You could dig in my closet to find my pink dress sandals."

Belle scrunched her nose but otherwise said nothing as she hopped off the bed to dig through the disaster at the bottom of Charlotte's closet. "Found them!"

Charlotte gave another sigh as she cast one more look in the mirror at her hair. It would have to do. There wasn't much time to do anything else with it, and Derek would be arriving at any minute.

"Thanks, Belles," Charlotte said as she took the sandals from her sister and sat down on the bed to put them on.

"If it means anything, I think you look smashing," Belle offered.

Charlotte smiled. "Thank you. I can only hope that Derek's mother thinks the same way."

Belle smirked. "You want Derek to think so too."

Charlotte scoffed. "Oh please. I don't really care. He's my agent, nothing else."

"But you want him to be something else, don't you?"

"Belle!"

"Charlotte! Derek's here!"

Charlotte twitched but stood up. "What do you think, Belle?"

"I think he'll be pleased," Belle said with a grin.

"Ugh."

Charlotte walked out of the room, feeling very self conscious in her floaty pink and purple striped dress. It wasn't often that she felt the need to wear a dress, so when she did, she made sure that everything was just right. She didn't want to feel like she was forced to wear the stupid thing for nothing. Her hair hung in soft curls down to her shoulders, with the sides pinned up into place. Her bangs fell wispy just to tops of her eyes, which she had highlighted with a touch of purple eyeliner and some pink and green eyeshadow. She had put on her favorite pink ribbon choker with the pink and purple stones set into the pendant that dangled at the base of her neck, and the earrings that matched. Her strappy dress sandals were a light pink and gave her an extra two inches of height, not that she needed it.

Derek was sitting at the table with Hermione and Oliver. They were discussing the disaster that was the press conference from earlier. Charlotte had come home and told them both everything. Oliver was more than a little mad. Hermione had gone pale at the idea of their past being revealed to the whole world, but once Charlotte explained what Aeryn was going to do to take care of the situation, Hermione had perked up considerably.

The table had gone quiet when she walked into the kitchen. Much to her dismay, Derek's mouth was hanging open and his eyes had gone all glossy. It was a good thing that Oliver had turned around in his seat to get a better look at her, otherwise he would have seen the stupid look on Derek's face, and quite possibly might have had a reason to hurt the poor guy.

"Well, I'm ready," she said with a shrug, to break the silence.

"Oh, Charlie, you look wonderful!" Hermione said as she stood up and gave her a hug.

"Thanks, Mum."

"I think yer gonna do well, lass," Oliver said gruffly, giving her a hug as well.

"You look. . .amazing, Charlie," Derek finally managed to get out.

"Thank you, Derek. Shouldn't we be going? So you're mother doesn't say anything?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. We should. Come on, I'll Apparate us both there."

He offered her his arm and she took it, allowing him to lead her outside.

"Don't wait up for me! I don't know when I'll be back!" Charlotte called to her parents before Derek Apparated them away.

Once the compressed feeling of Apparating had worn off and she had straightened her dress and fixed her hair, Charlotte allowed herself a good look at the Malfoy estate. She felt her mouth hang open slightly at all the grandeur.

The house sat on several acres of perfectly manicured grass. The walkway leading up to the house was lined with perfectly trimmed rosebushes, in which live fairies were sitting, casting a faint glow on the path stretching before them. The house itself was enormous. Three or four stories tall, it was built from red brick. The very large front door was heavy and oaken, but Derek pushed it open with ease as he guided Charlotte inside.

"You've not seen it all yet, I'm afraid," he said quietly as they walked through the front hall.

She turned her head this way and that to get a good look at her surroundings. The walls were covered in a soft green floral wallpaper, which looked old fashioned to Charlotte, with pictures spaced here and there all along the hall. The floor was of wood, something dark and polished to a shine. Charlotte felt as though she should slip on such a shiny floor, but her footing was quite steady.

Derek led her into what she presumed to be the sitting room of the ground floor. There was a large bookcase on the wall near the fireplace that held quite possibly hundreds of books. The fireplace crackled merrily, but for some reason, Charlotte felt an impending sense of doom creeping up on her. She turned to look at Derek for some kind of reassurance.

"Don't worry, it's just the fact that you haven't met my mother yet," he said quietly, understanding the terrified look in her eyes.

She gulped and walked a few steps away from him to get a better look at the room. There were two dark green chintz armchairs sitting on either side of the fireplace, with dark wood tables beside each. A long couch upholstered in the same fabric as the chairs was against the wall to her left, with plenty of cabinet space for family heirlooms to her right. She walked over to the cabinets to get a better look at the treasures they held.

"Don't touch anything," Derek warned from behind her as she reached out a hand to touch a heavy gold locket.

She gave him a questioning look.

"Just don't. You have no idea what's been accumulated in those cabinets over the centuries."

"He's quite right," said a prissy voice from the doorway.

They both turned to face the source of the voice. A woman of Hermione's age stood just inside the door, her nose sticking quite high in the air. Charlotte had a fleeting idea that the woman just might drown in a rainstorm if she happened to be in one with her nose held that high.

Derek's mother walked further into the room, surveying Charlotte as though she was forming an opinion of her. She stuck out a hand once she had stopped in front of Charlotte. Charlotte took it, feeling how soft the woman's hands were compared to her own calloused ones.

"I'm Pansy Malfoy," the woman introduced herself unnecessarily. "I must say, you look nothing like I had imagined you to."

Derek opened his mouth to call his mother out on the lie, as she had seen Charlotte's picture in the papers almost every day since she had been drafted, but his father walked in just then.

"Ah, Derek, you're back with our guest. Good evening, Charlotte," Draco Malfoy said, shaking her hand as well.

"Good evening, sir. It's a pleasure to meet both you and your wife," she said politely, smiling slightly in spite of her nerves.

Draco smiled at her as well, but she noticed that his smile did not extend fully to his eyes, which remained slightly cold, unlike Derek's.

He barely cast a glance in his wife's direction before saying imperiously, "Come, I'm sure dinner is about ready. I hope you're hungry."

Charlotte cast Derek a questioning glance as to his father's curious behavior toward his mother.

"They don't get along very well," he whispered as quietly as possible as they followed behind the two elder Malfoys to the dining room.

Charlotte wondered if maybe this was going to affect dinner in any way. She certainly hoped not. When they entered the dining room, she allowed Derek to pull out a chair for her and help her slide it closer to the table. He sat down beside her and offered her a small smile before the house elves began bringing out platters upon platters of food.

Charlotte must have looked amazed, for Pansy gave another sniff. "You mustn't be so amazed, Charlotte, we have dinner like this every night."

Derek shot his mother a look for being such a snob, but she ignored it. 'Well, if she can play that game, so can I,' he thought darkly as he took a dish from her without speaking a word of thanks.

"Parsnips, Charlie?" he held the dish out to her.

She smiled her thanks to him and took it, spooning some of the smashed parsnips onto her plate, which already was filled with a few slices of juicy roast beef, some mashed potatoes and gravy, and a French roll with butter.

Draco eyed her plate with a small smile. "Quite the appetite, Charlotte."

She didn't know whether to be embarrassed or not. "Oh, well, you know, I have to keep my energy up for the almost daily Quidditch practices."

Pansy gave her a cold look. "You had better hope you keep your figure. You won't be able to eat like this once you leave the Quidditch pitch."

Draco and Derek both gave Pansy an extremely dirty look. Charlotte felt quite uncomfortable now, so she picked up her knife and fork to cut her roast beef before taking a bite to save herself from having to answer another question.

"So Derek says you're quite the flier," Draco said after a few tense minutes of silence.

Charlotte took a sip of her elderflower wine before answering. "Oh, I don't know, I'm not _that_ spectacular. I just fly to keep up with the others."

Draco chuckled. "I can remember when I was on the Slytherin House team. You would have thought that the captains in my team were going for size more than skill. I was the smallest one on the team, but then again, I was Seeker, so there you go."

Charlotte gave a small smile and took another bite of her parsnips. She had to admit, the food was excellent, though the conversation was a bit stuffy and awkward.

"Well, I must say, you did inherit some decent Quidditch genes," Draco conceded.

Derek's eyes flashed warningly in his mother's direction, but she took no notice. Cringing as his mother opened her mouth, he could only hope that this wasn't going to be an insult to Charlotte.

"Well of course she did, Draco, Matt McAllister was quite the Quidditch man in his days at school," Pansy said sweetly, her eyes colder than ever as she looked at Charlotte.

The roast beef Charlotte had swallowed got lodged in her throat in a lump. Trying not to choke, she picked up her wine glass to take a sip, only to find her hand shaking as she did.

"Mother!" Derek said indignantly, laying a hand on Charlotte's shoulder as she tried to get the lump in her throat to go down.

"Well, what did you want me to say? That she got all her talent from that buffoon Oliver Wood? I should hardly think-"

"What you think doesn't matter, Pansy," Draco snarled as he tried to give Charlotte what he hoped was a concerned look as she almost gagged on the lump in her throat.

"Excuse me," she managed to say before getting up from the table and almost running out of the room.

"Was it something I said?" Pansy asked in a surprised tone.

Derek's face went red. "Thanks a lot, Mother," he snapped as he threw his napkin down on the table to go after Charlotte.

He caught a glimpse of her running around a corner further down the hall, trying to get back to the front hall to leave.

"Charlotte, wait!"

He ran to catch up to her. He came around the last corner to the front hall to find the front door standing open and her silhouette running down the walkway.

"Charlotte!"

He ran harder to catch up to her, and when he did, he caught her by the elbow to try to stop her.

"Derek, let go!"

He spun her around to look at her. She was crying again, though he wasn't surprised in the least. The hurt was evident in her eyes as he looked at her, at a loss for what to say.

"Look, she shouldn't have said it," he started, but she jerked her arm out of his grasp.

"She shouldn't have, but she did. And what am I to do? It's the truth, isn't it? There's no escaping the truth," she gasped out through her tears, turning around to set off down the walk again.

"Charlotte, hang on," he tried again.

"Derek, just let it drop. I'm going home," she cried, the tears still running down her cheeks.

"Please don't-"

She whirled on the spot and disappeared.

"Go," he finished, looking at the spot where she vanished.


	9. Chapter 8: Is Derek More Than an Agent?

**Disclaimer: **I'm definitely not going through this again. . .

**A.N.** Sorry it's been a bit longer than normal for the update. Work last week was insane and wore me down to the point where I could barely keep my eyes open at night, which is when I usually write. I also was unsure about what to do with this chapter, so if it seems a bit slow, I apologize. I thank you all for the reviews on the last chapter. I really appreciate the input from you all. Anyways, on with the chapter!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione and Oliver both looked up in surprise when Charlotte Apparated into the living room, crying up a storm and looking positively distraught.

"Charlotte? What's wrong?" Hermione cried, dropping her book and standing up quickly.

Charlotte shook her head and took off for her room, her crying echoing through the room as she went.

Hermione and Oliver both exchanged worried looks, and Oliver stood up as well when Hermione began walking toward the hall to see what was wrong.

Hermione shook her head at him. "Let me go, she probably feels bad enough without you seeing her crying."

Oliver nodded and sat back down, but couldn't concentrate on the book he was reading. He sat there with the book in his hands, listening for any sound that might float down the hall to give him a clue as to what was going on.

'I'll kill the boy meself if I find out he's done something to her the lass,' he thought grimly, his ears tuned to any sound whatsoever.

Hermione knocked on Charlotte's closed door but received no reply. All she could hear was Charlotte's muffled crying.

"Charlotte? Honey, tell me what's wrong," Hermione pleaded softly through the door.

Belle poked her head out of her door. "Mum? What's going on? Why's she back so soon?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, Belle, I'm trying to find out. She just Apparated back sobbing her heart out."

"I saw her run past crying, but before I could even ask, she slammed the door," Belle said, looking worried.

Hermione knocked again. "Charlotte?"

"Go away!" came the soggy and muffled reply.

"Charlotte, tell me what's wrong," Hermione begged.

"Go away!"

Hermione sighed, then turned and gave Belle a pointed look. Taking the hint, Belle shrugged and retreated back into her room, shutting the door behind her.

Hermione cracked open Charlotte's door and slipped inside. The room was completely dark, but she could make out Charlotte's form huddled under the covers of her bed.

Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Charlotte's back. "Charlotte, talk to me. What happened?"

Charlotte flinched when Hermione laid her hand on her back, but otherwise didn't stop crying. She just wanted to be left alone, but was otherwise glad her mother was there to comfort her.

"Was it something that happened at dinner?"

Charlotte nodded, hiccuping as she tried to calm her sobbing.

"Was it Derek?"

She shook her head.

"Was it his parents?"

Charlotte nodded miserably.

Hermione felt a flash of anger course through her system. "Was it his mother or father?"

"Mother," Charlotte strangled out.

Hermione sighed. "What did she do?"

Charlotte cried her way through what happened while Hermione rubbed her back soothingly in an attempt to get her to calm down. Charlotte was normally such a carefree spirit who rarely let things bother her, which led Hermione to believe that what Pansy said must have really hit a nerve deep down.

"I don't understand why everyone keeps bringing him up! Why do they think it's their business? That was ten years ago! He never was anything to me! And it's nobody's business but ours!" Charlotte gasped out between tears.

"I know, Charlie, I know. Some people just like to cause others pain, like Pansy. Like Matt. But you can't let it bother you so much. You have to grow a bit of a thicker skin to deal with this now, because with you being out in the public eye, people are going to dig around to find something to throw at you. And you know that, too, I know you do. Right?"

Charlotte nodded miserably against her pillow, knowing what her mother said was true.

"All right, then. Dry your tears and hold your head up high. If he was nothing to you, then you won't let it bother you. Oliver's the only one that matters, right?"

Again, Charlotte nodded.

"See? Then that's all you have to think about. Oliver's your father and he loves you very much. He hates to see you like this, and it breaks his heart."

Charlotte sniffled a little, feeling a bit calmer than she was. "Sorry, Mum."

"It's all right. Why don't you just try to get some sleep now? You've had a hard day."

Charlotte nodded and snuggled further down under her covers. Hermione got up and kissed her on the forehead before leaving.

Out in the living room, Oliver received a slight shock when the fireplace suddenly burst into flame, and Derek Malfoy's head appeared in the emerald-green fire.

"Sir, please, let me just start by saying it wasn't me!" Derek exclaimed once he saw Oliver sitting there.

Oliver dropped the book and walked over to the fireplace, kneeling down to better see Derek.

"Explain," was all Oliver said.

Derek went through the entire evening without stopping, hoping that Oliver wasn't going to yell at him, or worse.

"Sir, really, my mother is a right wench when she wants to be, I swear I tried to get her to keep her mouth shut. But she's so pigheaded; she was bound and a determined to make this an unpleasant evening all the way around. I'm so sorry, sir, that Charlotte's upset about her. I'll try to make it up to her in any way that I can."

Oliver listened in silence and only moved when Hermione came out to join him.

"It's all right, Derek, we don't blame you. Charlotte's just told me what happened," Hermione told him.

Derek looked upset. "How is she?"

"She was crying something awful, but I've got her calmed down now. She's sleeping," Hermione replied.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what else to say," Derek said agitatedly. "I could just kill my mum right now."

Hermione suppressed a small smile. "I can imagine. Just try not to, you're a good agent to Charlotte, and I imagine she'd be upset if you were carted off to Azkaban."

"I can think of a few people who wouldn't be entirely upset if my mother snuffed it," Derek muttered darkly.

Oliver and Hermione exchanged a small grin between themselves.

"I really am sorry. You'll tell her, won't you?" Derek asked.

"Of course we will. I'm sure she understands that it wasn't your fault."

"I feel like I need to make this up to her. Do you know if she has anything going on tomorrow, besides going to practice?"

Hermione carefully hid her smile. "Not that we're aware of. What are you thinking, Derek?"

He looked thoughtful. "Perhaps I'll drop by and persuade her to join me for lunch before going off to practice."

Oliver didn't look like he thought too much of this, but Hermione nudged him discreetly in the ribs, which caused him to give Derek a sort of painful smile before nodded right along with Hermione.

"I'm sure the lass will appreciate the thought, lad," Oliver said gruffly, giving his wife a sharp look.

After Derek's head disappeared from the fire, Oliver rounded on Hermione.

"And what the bloody hell was tha' all about?"

Hermione got up and retreated back to her chair, where her book was laying quite discarded. "What? Derek wants to make up for his mother's rude behavior to Charlotte. Is there something wrong with him wanting to make sure she's all right?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "And he can't simply just drop her a line by owl post or drop by her practice tomorrow and apologize again?"

Hermione sighed. "Oliver, please. Just leave this to me."

"She's bloody well my daughter too and if some lad's gonna be comin' around to take her places, then I better damn well have a say so in it!"

Hermione gave him a look. "And you do. There is nothing wrong with the two of them going to get a bite to eat. Think of it as simply an agent apologizing for something stupid by taking his client out for a meal. He wants to stay in her good graces, you know."

"And just how the bloody hell did he get in her good graces to begin with?" Oliver muttered to himself.

* * *

Back at the Malfoy manor, Derek was ripping into his mother, something he had never done in all of his nineteen years.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?! Do you have no common sense at all in that thick skull of yours? Why don't you stop for one second and think of someone else for a change?"

Pansy sat in her armchair, frozen with shock as her son continued to berate her.

"What business is it of yours anyways who her real father was? Do you not remember what happened with that bastard? He beat them, Mother! He hurt them both! Did you ever stop to think that maybe bringing up her drunken maniacal father was a bit of a touchy subject for her?"

Draco stood nearby, smirking in the shadows as he watched his son give his mother what she thoroughly deserved.

Pansy's mouth hung slightly open and her eyes were bugging out. Clearly, she had never been yelled at, and she didn't think very much of it.

"Well, I never-"

"That's right, you never think! You stupid, stuck up worthless excuse of a mother! I'm glad I'm not anything like you! I actually give a damn about those around me, unlike you! All you think about is yourself and all the gossip of the world! If you actually gave two shits about someone else for a change, maybe people would actually like you, instead of constantly talking behind your back the moment you disappear! Yeah, that's right, Mum, they talk about you all right. But if you could hear what they say, you'd cringe. Good to know that I'm not the only one who can see straight through you. It's a wonder that Father even puts up with you anymore. But wait, that's right, he refuses to even share a room with you anymore! How could I be so stupid as to forget that?"

"Derek Malfoy!" Pansy cried, looking completely floored.

"You make me sick! How dare you even carry around the Malfoy name like it's a trophy! You don't deserve it! You deserve none of this!"

Derek turned on his heel and stormed from the room, passing his father, who was still smirking in the shadows. He stormed from the house, positively fuming over how stupid his mother really was.

He snorted. "Mother, yeah. That's a title she'll deserve when hell freezes over and Merlin comes back from the dead."

He glared at the manor a final time before Disapparating to his flat, where he spent the rest of the night hoping that Charlotte didn't hate his guts the way he knew she could.

* * *

Charlotte went about her morning like nothing was wrong, though she had woken up with puffy red eyes and a stuffy nose from her crying the previous night.

She decided that it was better to just forget what had happened yesterday than to wallow in the misery that had engulfed her at the mention of her past and her father. In fact, she was going to just pretend that yesterday never happened. It was erased from her mind as just a day that history would choose to ignore. She thought it better that way, really.

She sat now out in the brilliant sunshine of the day, alternately watching her mother continue to wage war on the weeds in the garden and polishing the handle of her Firebolt.

"Mum, really, why don't you just use your wand? It would be so much easier for you," Charlotte said as she watched Hermione tug on a particularly stubborn weed, which looked more like a small tree, in Charlotte's opinion.

"I. . .like. . .the work!" Hermione huffed between the hard tugs on the weed, whose roots finally gave way and sent Hermione back into the dirt with a hard _thump._

Charlotte laughed as her mother hacked the weed into bits and threw its remains into the trees. "You know you're probably just replenishing its life cycle by dumping it, right? You'll probably have a dozen more growing by next summer."

Hermione gave Charlotte a dirty look before getting down on her hands and knees once more to tackle the next small tree that was growing in between her precious plants.

"Don't you have something to do?" Hermione asked, half irritably.

Charlotte shook her head. "Nothing to do until practice, I'm afraid. You're stuck with me."

"Unless, of course, I took you off her hands for awhile," came a voice.

Charlotte dropped her broomstick in surprise. "Derek, what are you doing here?"

"I've come to apologize for my mother's behavior last night by asking you to join me for lunch."

Charlotte whipped around to glare suspiciously at her mother, who was determinedly avoiding her gaze. "Mother. . ."

"You two have fun!" Hermione sang.

Charlotte stood up and dusted off her jeans. "Derek, really, you don't have to-"

"Would you for once just stop fighting me and let me do something nice for you?" Derek asked, slightly exasperated.

Charlotte clamped her mouth shut in surprise. She nodded meekly.

"Thank you," Derek almost sighed, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen.

"Erm, where are we going?" she asked in a small voice.

"A place I know where the food is good. Hopefully it's enough to make up for the lousy dinner last night."

He grabbed her hand to pull her close so he could Apparate them there. She gave a minor squeak and stumbled, landing herself right in Derek's arms, much to his joy.

"Off we go!" he said, spinning on the spot.

* * *

Charlotte had to admit, when Derek felt he had done wrong, he would go all out to make sure that he made it right. Even though what his mother had said last night was not his fault in the least, he made sure that he did his best to make Charlotte happy again.

They both sat outside a lovely little café in Diagon Alley, Charlotte sipping on a delicious strawberry and banana smoothie while trying to ignore the fact that Derek kept surveying her, often for minutes at a time.

"You truly aren't mad at me, are you?" he asked abruptly after their waiter had brought their food.

Charlotte stopped hacking into her sandwich to give him a look. "Derek, why are you so worried about it? I'm fine, really."

His eyes looked slightly hurt, and she realized that her tone of voice was rather annoyed. She sighed, beating herself up internally.

"Derek, I'm sorry, that was rude of me. Really though, I'm not mad at you. Sure, you have a complete cow for a mother," she paused as Derek chuckled, "but why should I be mad at you? You can't really help that she's your mother. You didn't pick her."

Derek grinned. "This is true. And I have to say, my father didn't pick her either. She was kind of pushed on him. Well, not without some planning and conniving of her own."

They both laughed and dug into their food. For the next few minutes they were silent, enjoying their meals and the nice day.

People strolling past the café noticed Charlotte sitting there so casually, and with a male, no less. Soon, a small crowd was gathering, much to their chagrin.

"I think your idea of a calm afternoon just crashed and burned, Derek," Charlotte muttered as the crowd grew even bigger and the excited mutterings grew to quite a crescendo.

Derek's face darkened as he glared at the crowd. He signaled to the waiter, who promptly brought the check. Charlotte reached for her money, but Derek snatched the check before she could get a good look at it.

"I've got this," he said diplomatically.

"Let me go half with you," she pleaded.

"No."

"Derek. . ."

"Charlotte. . ."

"Please?"

"Absolutely not."

"But Derek-"

"We're causing a scene," he pointed out, motioning to the crowd of people, all of whom were watching the scene with great interest.

She sighed and sat back in her chair, slurping up the last of her smoothie in silence.

He smiled. "Good to know that causing a scene keeps you from arguing with me."

She merely looked at him, refusing to let all the people see the dirty look she was longing to throw at him.

He smirked at the look on her face and handed the bill over to the waiter, who bowed to them and bid them good day.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked sweetly, offering her a hand.

She stood up without his help, though she allowed him to escort her through the massive crowd, all of whom were calling to her, asking questions.

They realized though, that they weren't getting away that easy. The crowd followed them as they strolled down the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley, calling excitedly to their mates as they went.

"Over here," he muttered, tugging her elbow.

They dodged into a dark alley to Disapparate, but not before a dozen or so cameras caught Derek holding Charlotte close to disappear.

Charlotte and Derek would be in for quite a surprise come tomorrow morning. All the various tabloids and rags of the like would have huge pictures of Derek holding Charlotte close, all with a variation of the headline, "**Charlotte Wood's New Man?**"

* * *

Sorry this chappie is a bit shorter than normal. But I thought this was a good place to stop. Things are about to get interesting. Oh, by the way, I've been thinking I need a new beta reader for this story. Anyone interested? Let me know. 


	10. Chapter 9: Actions and Reactions

**Disclaimer:** I think you all get the point by now. . .

**A.N.** Hmm, so although the last chapter was rather short, I kind of liked it. And judging by the reviews you all left, you liked it too. Well, here's the next chapter. It took me a couple days to get my thoughts straight, but hopefully you'll like this one too. Enjoy!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Nine**

Charlotte couldn't believe those horrible reporters. If they weren't trying to ruin her life with her past and her dead father, they were casting aspersions on her love life! It was bad enough that they were digging into her love life, but to have a huge picture on the front cover of every single volatile tabloid out there of her and Derek in the very last position she wanted to be in. . .honestly! She felt her insides squirm with intense embarrassment every time she looked at one.

Derek, on the other hand, was torn between amusement and hope. He had a good chuckle when he had finally gotten a hold of one of the rags, and even more of a laugh when Charlotte had appeared at his flat, demanding to know what he thought of the situation. She was clearly distraught and angry, and, much to his entertainment, embarrassed.

"Do you have any idea what this could do to us?!" she half shrieked in his face at the very early time of eight in the morning.

He rubbed his eyes sleepily, as she had just roused him most unpleasantly from a comfortable sleep. "What are you on about?"

She shoved one of the horrible tabloids in his face. "This!"

His eyes went rather cross-eyed for a moment before he took a step back and seized the magazine from her grip. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the picture, but much to Charlotte's annoyance, he began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked snappishly.

He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes closed as he continued to laugh.

"Derek! This isn't funny!"

His laughing ceased as he turned his head lazily to look at her, his eyes snapping in amusement. "Oh come on, you can't honestly believe that people will take this as truth."

She actually gave a low growl. "Derek, my father about had a stroke when he found out. He threatened to find me someone else! Do you have any idea what he could possibly do to you when he gets a hold of you?"

Derek merely shrugged. "He wouldn't hurt me. Does he still believe it though?"

She stamped her foot in frustration. "Yes! Apparently, my mother has been on a mission to throw us together as it is! He's been listening to her too much and now he thinks that. . .that. . .we're a. . .a-"

"A what?" he asked, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

"He bloody well thinks that we're a couple!" she nearly howled, slumping against the wall opposite his door in the hall.

"And this is bad because. . .?"

"Derek Malfoy! I'm supposed to be an international phenomenon according to the rest of the world, and a role model to little girls to boot! You and me splashed across the least reputable sources of news and made a spectacle of hardly qualifies me as a role model! This could ruin us both!"

He backed up several paces once she got in his face. It was far too early to have an upset woman yelling in his face. If this was going to work, he had to get her to calm down and mellow out considerably.

"Whoa, okay, calm down, Charlie. Deep breaths, stop yelling," he said quickly.

"Don't patronize me, Derek!"

"Do you want to come inside to talk about this over a cup of coffee, or do you want to wait until the neighbors call the police?"

She glanced down the hallway to see his next door neighbor poking his head out his door, clearly disgruntled at her yelling.

"Do you mind keeping it down?" he asked grumpily.

"I'm sorry," Charlotte apologized rather shortly.

Derek grinned at her at she turned back to look at him. She gave him a look in return, but marched past him quite silently as he stood aside to let her inside.

She sat down at his kitchen table, still looking frazzled, but taking in his place with great interest. She had to admit, for a bachelor pad, it was very tastefully furnished and decorated.

"My mother had a bit of a say in what went in here," Derek said grumpily. "Coffee? Tea? Juice?"

She looked around at him. "Erm, tea, please."

He waved his wand and a cup of tea appeared in front of her. He took coffee for himself. He sat down across from her and took a sip of his coffee, peering at her over the rim of his mug.

"_Well?_" she asked after he didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"We can't do anything about this," he said simply.

"Why not?!"

He sighed. "Charlotte, whether or not you choose to believe this, people are going to constantly try to dig stuff up on you, and whether you like it or not, they will print it. You have to accept it as a fact of life now. How do you think my father felt when the media was trying to destroy him after he got out of Azkaban? He didn't pitch a fit every time something rotten was printed about him. He just went on about his business like nothing was wrong."

Charlotte knew he was right, so she said nothing. She opted for a drink of her tea and sat there in silence, glaring hard at her cup.

"Charlotte," Derek said firmly.

She looked up at him, her expression fierce.

"It's going to be all right. I promise."

She snorted. "You don't have Oliver Wood as a father."

A small smile played about his lips. "So your dear mum's been trying to throw us together, eh?"

Charlotte took another sip of her tea rather than answer the question. She couldn't, however, avoid his gaze, which refused to leave her face.

She sighed and set her mug down. "Yes, she has. Happy now?"

He leaned back in his chair and put his legs on the table. He grinned at her saucily. To add even more to her embarrassment, she had finally realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt. He had a pair of red plaid pajama bottoms on, that was it.

He knew by the look on her face that she finally realized he had no shirt on, so he casually sat further back in his chair, his hands laced behind his head, making sure to display his skin to its full extent.

Her cheeks reddened considerably, so to distract herself, she averted her eyes to her tea mug and took another drink.

'Since when does he have muscles? Did he have those back at school? Maybe he should get with Marc and they could compare. . .Ack! What am I doing?! I shouldn't be thinking this!' she thought.

She looked back up at him again, unfortunately having to look at his perfectly muscled chest. He was still grinning at her, the wanker.

"Like what you see?" he asked cheekily.

She stood up. "Thanks for the tea, but I need to get going."

He sat up. "No need to rush off, Charlie."

She looked away from him and walked to the door. "I do need to be going, really. I need to make sure my father hasn't killed Mum yet."

He laughed. He seemed to do that a lot. It was a nice laugh, not so deep, but pleasant to listen to. She shook her head again. She really needed to get out of his flat, the sexual tension was so thick she could have cut it with a knife.

'More like a chainsaw, that's how thick it is,' she thought darkly.

"Hey, you guys leave tomorrow for the foreign tour, right?" he asked as he walked to the door with her.

She nodded. "Ten countries spread over a month. Ace wants us to see how the 'foreigners' train. He thinks it will be good for us, so we can anticipate what the rivals are bringing to the field."

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he said.

She looked at him blankly. "Tomorrow? But I just said-"

"I know. Didn't Ace tell you? I'm coming too. I want to see what the foreigners have on us. Besides, there's supposed to be some kind of international agent thing in Paris, and wouldn't you know, it's one of the weekends that you guys are in town?"

She hoisted a small smile on her face. "What a coincidence."

"Make sure you get enough sleep, love. Tomorrow's a busy day!" he sang as she walked down the hall.

He shut the door and leaned against it, grinning to himself. This was going to be an interesting month.

* * *

Charlotte couldn't believe that Ace actually invited Derek along. The tabloids had broken the 'story' yesterday, and somehow, Ace was the first one to find out. She'd been dragged out of bed at noon yesterday by her mother, who was exclaiming something about Ace's head in the fire, or something like that.

Charlotte had stumbled out to the living room to find an extremely agitated Ace babbling to Oliver about something. When he saw her, his face screwed up in irritation.

"Wood!" he yelled.

She cringed. There was something about him yelling her name like that. . .either that or it was just a rude awakening from a peaceful sleep.

"What? I didn't miss practice, did I?" she asked stupidly, glancing around for a clock.

"No, you bloody well haven't missed practice! Why am I the last person to find out about you going round with that agent of yours?!"

She blinked. "What are you talking about, Ace?"

Oliver held up a magazine. She took it from him, looking at it for a second before yelping.

"What is this?!" she shrieked.

"Exactly what your dear old dad and I were wondering," Ace said furiously. "Look, I don't have a problem with it, but dammit Wood, I don't like to be the last one to know. You're an important part of this team, and if this screws with us. . ."

"But Ace! I'm not dating Derek! I swear I'm not!"

"Then what the hell is that?" Oliver and Ace chorused.

"I don't know!" she cried. "Derek took me to lunch to apologize for his stupid mother, and there was a huge crowd so we left. And then they were following us, so he yanked me into an alley to Disapparate. . .that's what this is! He had grabbed me to get us out of there! I swear, that's all this is! There is nothing between me and him!"

Both men looked at her suspiciously.

"I swear!" she exclaimed, holding her hands up in defense.

Charlotte decided now, as she emerged into the cloudy day from Derek's building, that she would pay Ace a little visit. They had no practice today, as Ace had urged them all to get some rest to prepare for their multi-country tour, but she knew that she'd find him at the field, in his office, no doubt going over last minute details to be sure they were ready.

She Apparated to the field and marched purposefully into the lockers. Sure enough, she could see Ace's head bent over his desk from the window of his office. She knocked and walked in.

"Wood, what are you-?"

"Why did you invite Derek to accompany us on the tour?" she asked, interrupting him.

He set down his quill. "What makes you think I invited him?"

"I was just at his flat, discussing those horrible rags, and he told me he was coming with! He said he was coming along for the whole tour, and something about an international agent's meeting in Paris the same weekend we're there. Ace, what's going on?"

"I merely mentioned that it might do him good, he could meet with other agents and discuss their different methods of agent work. Then I told him about the international meeting, and he said he'd gladly come along. He said it would be a good business opportunity."

"But I thought that with the tabloids and everything," she started, but Ace held up a hand.

"You said there's nothing going on between you two, right?"

She nodded.

"Then what do I have to be worried about?"

She looked at him glumly. He had a point. There was nothing he should be worried about.

But if there was nothing for him to worry about, then why did she have butterflies in her stomach, fluttering around with nervous excitement?

* * *

Derek sat in his father's study, watching Draco himself pace the floor in front of him.

"Are you sure that's a wise thing to do, Derek?" Draco asked.

"Father, I told you, as long as Ace doesn't have a reason to worry that I might interfere with Charlotte, he's game."

"But I'm talking about the girl herself."

"Father, she has a name. You know, Charlotte?"

"Funny boy," Draco muttered. "And Charlotte's all right with this?"

Derek shrugged. "Well, she did seem a bit surprised."

Draco snorted. "You'll be gone for a month, yes?"

"Yeah. We'll be back sometime near the end of August."

Draco sighed as he paced back to his alcohol cabinet. "You're leaving me with your mother for a month."

Derek laughed as he accepted the glass of mead from his father. "Try not to kill each other. Although, if I had my choice, don't let her finish you off."

Draco sat down behind his desk, surveying his son over his glass rim. "Thank Merlin you're nothing like her."

"If I was anything like her, I'd be a woman. Imagine that for a moment, if you will, Father," Derek said dryly.

Draco nearly choked on his mead. "The horrors. . ."

Derek sneered in his father's direction. "Funny, thanks, Father."

Draco chuckled. "Well, at least this house is big enough to where I can put several floors between me and her."

"Just make sure you're not home for meals. Then you'll never have to see her," Derek suggested.

Draco raised his glass in his son's direction. "Cheers."

They drank in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"Derek," Draco said finally.

"Father," Derek said solemnly.

"Don't force her hand," Draco warned.

Derek looked taken aback. "Do I look like-?"

Draco held up a hand to silence him. "I know how you are. I'm just reminding you. Look what a forced hand did to me and your mother. Do you want to end up like us?"

Derek shook his head heartily. "Not a chance, Father."

Draco again raised his glass. "To a future by choice."

"I can drink to that," Derek said, and knocked back the rest of his glass.

* * *

Charlotte spent the rest of the evening at home, packing. During the team meeting after the last practice the other day, Ace had spent a good half hour explaining what the others should pack.

"Just remember not to pack everything you own," he had warned as he looked directly at Charlotte.

Charlotte scoffed as she folded a few more shirts to fit into her duffel bag. "Me? Seventeen suitcases? Yeah, sure, Ace."

"Charlie? Do you want some help?" Belle asked, poking her head through the door.

"Sure. Would you mind folding up the rest of these shirts while I dig out some jeans and stuff?"

Belle plopped down on Charlotte's bed and sat cross-legged, pulling the shirts into her lap to finish folding them.

Charlotte finally got around to cleaning up the bottom of her closet, only because half of what she needed was down in the tangle and confusion of shirts, jeans, and sweat pants. Now it was all tidy, as most of her sweat pants went into the duffel bag, as well as a few pairs of the jeans. The rest of the shirts were hanging tidily back in the original places on the clothes rod, having been magically ironed as Charlotte hung them back up.

"I'm going to miss you," Belle said casually as she focused on folding the shirts.

"I'll miss you too, Belles. Try to talk Mum and Dad into a game or two. It's not like you can't Apparate there," Charlotte urged.

Belle smiled, handing over the last of the shirts to be placed in the duffel bag. "I'm sure I can manage that. Dad will want to see some of the games anyways, especially the ones that will be tough."

Charlotte laughed as she threw a few pairs of shoes out of the closet.

"Are you nervous?" Belle asked.

Charlotte shrugged as she fit the shoes into the duffel bag. "I am and I'm not. Does that make sense? I guess I'm excited to be traveling around for a month and seeing how the other teams train and all that. But the actual games themselves? That's going to be a nightmare."

Belle nodded understandingly. "But seeing all those countries! France, Germany, Luxembourg, Romania. . .I'm jealous, Charlie."

Charlotte hugged her little sister. "I'll be sure to send a little something along to you from each country."

"Really?"

Charlotte nodded. "I'll make sure it's something good too."

Hermione poked her head in the door. "All finished packing?"

Charlotte zipped up her duffel bag and sat back. "Now I am."

Hermione sighed. "It will be strange not having you here for a whole month."

"Now Mum," Charlotte started. "It shouldn't be so strange. Think of it as me going back to school for a month."

Hermione smiled. "I guess you're right. I'm just being silly. I knew you'd have to leave sooner or later."

"And we can always go see a couple games, Mum," Belle spoke up.

Hermione visibly brightened. "Yes, I suppose we could. I'm sure your father would like that a lot."

Charlotte and Belle exchanged knowing looks.

"See? You won't have to miss me for too long," Charlotte said.

"Did you say that Derek was going to be along for the tour as well?" Hermione asked in what she thought was an unconcerned voice.

Charlotte gave her a look. "Yes. Do I have to wonder if you had something to do with his decision to go along?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you," Belle and Charlotte said together.

"No, not me. It was all him," Hermione declared before leaving the room abruptly.

Belle and Charlotte looked at each other.

"She was involved," Belle confirmed.

"She wouldn't have left the room so abruptly if she wasn't," Charlotte sighed.

Belle left her to go for a short fly before dark fell, leaving Charlotte with her thoughts a jumble and her stomach a mass of fluttering butterflies.

'What is this?' she questioned herself. 'Why do I feel like this?'

She thought she had an idea why. She knew Hermione definitely knew why. She also knew her mother well enough to know that it was probably Hermione's dearest ambition for Charlotte to come back from the tour with a ring on her finger.

'Well, we'll just see about that,' Charlotte thought defiantly.


	11. Chapter 10: Just Friends?

**Disclaimer:** If you can't figure this out by now. . .

**A.N.** Okay guys, here's the next chapter. I bet you're all just dying to know whether Charlotte will come back with a ring on her finger or not. Well, this isn't the chapter to find out, as I plan on having her out on tour for this chapter and the next, hopefully. Also, this will probably be the last chapter I put out until after I finish reading "Deathly Hallows". So go ahead and enjoy, and let me know what you think! Thanks!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Ten**

"Alright, you chaps," Ace called to bring the attention to him.

"And ladies," Marc added with a wink in Charlotte's direction.

Charlotte managed a smile. In her opinion, it was still far too early to be listening to Ace carry on like he was about to. Hermione had roused her at the crack of dawn, like Charlotte had instructed her to. Charlotte had to be at the field by no later than five thirty so that they could leave for the first stop of their tour: Romania.

The journey had been rather uneventful. The whole team, as well as Derek, had opted to fly to each of their destinations rather than Apparate in order to enjoy the scenery more. Field after field flashed past below them, making the land around them seem rather more like a patchwork quilt of the earth.

They had finally arrived in Bucharest in the afternoon, local time. Charlotte felt a little disoriented because of the two hour time difference between Romania and England, and wholeheartedly wished that she was still in bed, like she would have been normally, had she been in England still.

"We'll be staying in this hotel for the next three nights. After we get settled in our rooms and have a bite to eat, we'll be Apparating to Romania's home field to watch them practice. Tomorrow we'll do the same, only we'll have the day to explore a bit before attending practice in the evening for ourselves. The day after tomorrow is our match against Romania. We stay our last night after the match, then we leave early the next day for Bulgaria. Everyone clear on the schedule?" Ace motored off.

Everyone nodded or murmured their understanding. Ace grinned before motioning them all to follow him inside the hotel. Ace went to the desk to check them all in and get everyone's key cards to their rooms. Then they all walked across the lobby and got in the elevator.

"Seriously cool digs, Ace," Pietro said as the doors slid shut.

Ace smirked. "Only the best for my team."

They took the elevator to the fifteenth floor and got off, talking excitedly and joking around with one another. So far, Charlotte had remained relatively quiet. She chose to sit back and observe rather than speak her mind, which was far from peaceful.

She was hoping with all her heart that Ace wouldn't be stupid and make her share a room with Derek. She kept her fingers crossed as he began to pass around the key cards.

"All right. Chase and Marc, room 7865, here's the key. Er, Pietro and Callum, room 7866. Turner, you're bunking with me, here's the key, room 7867. Charlotte, you get a room of your own, no sharing, room 7868. Derek, next door to her, room 7869. Everybody happy?"

But Ace was surprised to find when he looked up from his sheet listing everyone's room partners that they all had left him to explore their rooms. He gave a shrug and walked through the door of the room he was sharing with Turner.

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned against the door of her room. She didn't have to share with Derek! She smiled to herself as she pulled her shrunken duffel bag from her purse and waved her wand to restore it to normal. Maybe this tour wouldn't be such a bad thing, after all.

She pulled her shirts out of the duffel bag and placed them in one of the drawers of the armoire next to the door of the bathroom. She had to agree with Pietro, this was quite a nice hotel. Giggling like a little girl, she flung herself onto the bed, feeling its airy softness encompass her.

"Quite nice, isn't it?"

She bolted upright again. Derek was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with an amused smile.

"I wish you would quit doing that," she muttered, climbing off the bed and bending over her duffel bag, allowing her hair to swing forward to hide her face, which was glowing crimson.

"Doing what?" he asked cheekily, inviting himself into her room and plopping down on the bed as she continued to put her clothes away in the drawers of the armoire.

"Sneaking up on me," she said, straightening up and shooing him off her bed.

He shrugged as he stood up. "I knocked. You must not have heard me."

"Uh huh," she said in a disbelieving tone. "Was there a reason why you're here?"

He pretended to look offended. "I'm to tell you on behalf of Ace that we're running a tad behind, so we'll have to eat after we watch the Romanians practice. And I'm supposed to tell you that you're to get your 'pretty little arse' down to the lobby as soon as possible so that you may go."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Pretty little arse, I'll give him pretty little arse. Aren't you coming?"

She paused at the door to look at him, the amused look still on his face. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Lead the way."

"Are you excited?" he asked during the elevator ride down to the lobby.

"To watch them? Yes. To play them? I'm bloody terrified," she confessed, stepping out of the elevator as soon as the doors slid open.

"About time you got down here," Ace exclaimed, rather annoyed. "Let's go, chaps!"

Charlotte shook her head as she joined in the queue, following Chase and Marc out the doors into the weak afternoon sun.

They found a deserted alley and filed into it, looking around to make sure the coast was clear before Disapparating to the Romanian home field, which was located out in the wild countryside, quite far from the capital.

Charlotte could see that the Romanians had already taken to the air by the time they arrived. The guys were all chattering quite excitedly, occasionally craning their necks to get a better view of the players as they walked to the stands.

Ace motioned for them to sit down while he had a chat with the Romanian captain, Rumirov. They shook hands and exchanged a short, though stilted, conversation. Rumirov waved at them all before he took to the air again. Ace climbed up the steps to join the rest of his team.

"He says they'll give us quite a show," Ace said as he sat down. "Just remember that we're playing them the day after tomorrow, so remember what you're up against."

Rumirov kept his team up to his promise. Just watching them practice was spectacular; Charlotte couldn't imagine playing them in two days' time. If this was how they practiced, she was quite a bit terrified to find out what playing them would be like.

"Impressive, eh?" Derek muttered in her ear, watching her eyes widen at some of the moves the Romanians were pulling off.

Charlotte nodded, not wanting to tear her eyes away from the action.

The Romanians kept at it until the sun had dropped so low that they could hardly see anymore. Ace and the others joined them on the field once they had landed to discuss what they had seen. Out of nowhere, it seemed, they now had plans to join the Romanians for dinner back in Bucharest, once they had changed out of their gear.

Derek walked along side her as they left the field to Apparate back to Bucharest. For some reason, he was scowling.

"What's wrong?" she asked him after a few minutes of walking in a huffy silence.

"Nothing," he said shortly, not looking at her.

"Derek, you're a terrible liar. What's wrong?" she asked again.

He gave a disgusted sigh. "You haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

He rolled her eyes. "You're so dense sometimes."

That stung. "What did I do?" she asked indignantly.

"Open your eyes, Charlie. The damn Romanian Keeper's been checking you out!"

She couldn't believe her ears. Derek was all up in arms about something silly like that? Oh, brother.

"Derek, why are you letting it bother you? If I haven't noticed it, then why should I let it bother me?"

"I don't like it," he huffed, still not looking at her.

Charlotte sighed. If he was going to act like this for the rest of the night, then it was going to prove to be a very _long_ night.

They Apparated back to Bucharest to some restaurant that catered specially to the Wizarding crowd. They walked inside and found themselves at the center of attention. It wasn't often that foreign wizards came to Romania, and even less often that they stayed for an extended period time.

The place was very lavishly decorated in a sort of gypsy theme. The waitresses and waiters alike were all dressed in gypsy fashion and gave off an aura of great mystery. Charlotte was very impressed and knew she would enjoy their time here immensely.

Rumirov was already there with the rest of the team, and he hailed them all jovially. For a few minutes there was nothing but loud talk and laughter as everyone greeted each other.

Charlotte sat down with Derek on one side of her and the Romanian Keeper, Catalin, on her other side. He smiled at her when he caught her eye, and once they had sat down, he reached for her hand and kissed it.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Charlotte Wood," he said with a heavy accent.

She blushed and muttered something along the same lines before turning to her menu. She didn't have to look at Derek to know he was scowling something terrible.

After a few minutes, their waitress returned to take their orders, and the talk immediately shifted to Quidditch. Though Charlotte enjoyed playing the sport for a living, she found talking about it rather dull and boring. She chanced a look at Derek, who was looking around the restaurant, taking in the surroundings.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked him quietly.

He looked around at her, slightly surprised. "No, why?"

She leaned in closer. "Are you mad because Catalin is sitting next to me?"

He leaned away, his posture stiffening. "Why should it matter?"

She straightened up, feeling slightly hurt at his cold demeanor. She had no idea why he was acting like this, but she knew one thing: she wouldn't put up with it for very long.

"So tell me about England, Charlotte," Catalin said to her, clearly wanting to know more about her.

She turned away from Derek and faced Catalin, focusing on him until their food arrived. He was a nice sort of fellow, very polite and gentleman-like, not to mention he was very good looking. But she wasn't interested. He would be nice to have as a friend, but she could tell by the way that he looked at her and the way that he spoke that he was more interested in something other than friendship.

Her food was set down in front of her and she breathed in deeply. The smell was unbelievable. She had ordered a sort of beef dish with tomatoes and a sauce. She took a bite and was pleased she had decided to get it.

"Have you ever had any Romanian dish before?" Catalin asked as he watched her savor the taste.

She shook her head. "It's delicious!"

He shook his head and chuckled. "Then you should try this." He pointed to his plate with his fork. "If you like what you're eating, you'll love this."

She took a bite of his food and sighed. "Why can't we have food like this back home?"

He laughed. "Galuste cu brinza. Cheese dumplings," he added when she looked confused.

Derek sat in stony silence, listening to Catalin brag about his Romanian food. Derek wanted nothing more than to throttle the man right now. He was exercising a lot of self control to keep his hands folded in his lap when he wasn't eating. He would be very glad when this dinner was over. No man should look at Charlotte the way Catalin was looking at her, no matter if she was an international Quidditch star or not.

'Ah, but it's all right for you to look at her that way,' a voice awoke in his brain.

'But I'm just having some fun. Besides, I don't want just a one night stand with her like that moron does,' he reasoned logically.

'Oh please, you are a Malfoy,' the voice reminded him.

'Why am I listening to a voice inside my head?' he wondered, and shook his head to quiet the pesky voice.

"Derek, did you want to try mine?" Charlotte was asking him.

"What? Oh, no, I'm fine. Thanks," he said distantly, wishing he was back at the hotel.

'With Charlotte, in your room, doing-' the voice said slyly.

Derek gave an irritable twitch and refused to finish that thought, however badly he wanted to. This would never do. He cleared his throat and stood up. The table went quiet as everyone looked at him.

"I'm sorry everyone, but I'm not feeling too well. I think I'll just go back to the hotel and have a bit of a rest. Thanks for the pleasant evening," he said, giving a wave before walking out of the restaurant.

Charlotte watched him go, feeling slightly disappointed and sorry. She had no idea why she was pitying him, after all, he had thoroughly annoyed her earlier with his actions. She sighed and turned back to her meal. She would just check on him later when she got back to the hotel and maybe straighten a few things out with him. He was acting ridiculous.

At long last, after a delicious meal (and several drinks on the behalf of the men), Ace declared it was time to get back to the hotel to get a good night's sleep before venturing out and exploring tomorrow before what he declared would be a 'lengthy practice.'

Catalin looked slightly disappointed that Charlotte was leaving, though on her part, she was not sorry at all. She was in the frame of mind to give someone a good talking to, and nothing was going to stop her.

"Would you not like to go dancing with me, for a little while, maybe?" he asked her as she stood up and made to follow the rest of the guys out of the restaurant.

She shook her head. "Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll pass. I'm sort of tired, and I don't want to make Ace mad or have the other guys worry about me being out late."

He nodded. "But of course. A Quidditch star needs her rest."

She caught up with the rest of the guys outside as they made their way back to the hotel. Marc looked around at her.

"Where'd you disappear to, Charlie Wood?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh, that bloke Catalin wanted me to come dancing with him," she said with a sigh.

"Yeah, I noticed he couldn't seem to keep his eyes in his head through the whole meal," Marc joked.

Charlotte rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, please. I knew perfectly well what he was after. And he's not getting it," she added sternly when Marc opened his mouth to say something that was undoubtedly dirty.

She bid them all good night as they stepped into their separate rooms and shut the doors. She turned to face Derek's door, glaring at it. This was all going to end right now.

She knocked softly. "Derek?"

He heard her knock and rolled over on his bed to look at the door.

"Derek?" she called again.

He sighed and rolled himself up and off the bed. "What?"

"Are you all right?"

He cracked open the door to peer at her. "I'm fine. What do you want? Where's old Catty boy at?"

Okay, that was far enough. "Can I come in? I want to talk to you," she said rather coldly, drawing herself up to her full height.

He shrugged and walked back to his bed, leaving her to follow if she chose to. He wasn't disappointed though; she walked right in and shut the door with a snap behind her.

"You can sit down if you want to," he said when she didn't make a move to sit in the chair near the bed.

"I'll stand," she said dismissively.

She paced for a few minutes. He grew bored watching her, wanting her to get to the point.

"Well?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"I want to know what your problem is," she said finally, turning to look him straight in the eye.

"I don't have a problem," he said defensively.

"Yes, Derek, you do. You had a fit this afternoon when we were watching the Romanians practice because Catalin was looking at me. You gave me the cold shoulder all through dinner because he sat on the other side of me, and you left dinner early after he offered me a taste of what he was eating! You have a problem, whether you want to admit to it or not, and I want to know what's bugging you!"

He leaned back against his pillows and looked at her. Now was not the time to be feeling so strongly toward her, not when she was incredibly angry at him. But there was something about her when she was upset. . .

"Fine, I was jealous. Happy?" he asked coolly, watching her face turn red with suppressed anger.

"No, I am not happy! Why do you have to act like that? He was just trying to be friendly!" she cried, pacing back and forth, her hands shaking.

Derek sat up. "Friendly? You call his behavior friendly? Wow, sweetheart, have you got a lot to learn."

"Don't call me stupid!"

Derek stood up. "If you think that was friendly, I'd like to see what kind of behavior you think is coming on to you! If those weren't bedroom eyes that he was giving you, then I'd like to see what you think is! Charlotte, wake up and smell the coffee! He wanted to drag you off to the sack and have his way with you!"

She stopped pacing and glared at him. "You only think that because you think every guy automatically wants that from me."

He gave a growl of frustration as he walked toward her. "I hope to Merlin that you wake up sometime soon, because if you don't, you're gonna get caught one day in a situation when you aren't gonna have a damn clue how to get out of it."

"I'm not a stupid little girl, Derek," Charlotte declared, backing up against the wall.

"Oh yeah?" he said, smirking.

"Yeah," she huffed defiantly.

With a sudden lunge, he slammed his hands on either side of her head, pinning her against the wall.

"What now, little Charlie?" he said softly, looking right into her eyes, which suddenly held fear.

"Derek, knock it off. This isn't funny," she said, most of her defiance leaving her voice.

"Exactly. It's not funny. What do you think I was just trying to tell you?" he breathed, watching the fear fill her eyes.

"Derek, stop," she said, some of her fear evident in her voice now. She pushed against his chest. "Let me go."

He stuck his mouth next to her ear. "I'm just trying to protect you," he whispered.

She gave an involuntary shudder as she felt his breath tickle her neck. He drew back slowly, his nose just barely touching her skin. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

'Now is not the time for this, not now, no, not gonna happen,' she thought frantically.

Derek ran his finger tips lightly across her cheek, watching for her reaction. She took a sharp breath and opened her eyes to find his boring into hers.

"I. . .it's late. . .time for bed," she stammered, unwilling to tear her eyes away from his blue ones.

"Charlotte," he whispered.

She tore her gaze away from him and all but ran to the door. She let herself out quickly and threw herself through her own door before slamming it and locking it. She gave a cry of frustration and threw herself face down on the bed, trying to calm her breathing down.

What had just happened?


	12. Chapter 11: Jealousy

**Disclaimer:** Seriously, people, it's obvious this is a flight of fancy.

**A.N.** Oh, my goodness. "Deathly Hallows" was amazing and heartbreaking! I can't believe the series is finally over. I was seriously left speechless, and honestly shed quite a few tears. But anyways, here's the newest chapter! Enjoy!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Eleven**

Charlotte managed to get through the next few days in a relatively calm manner, although it could have been that she was too stunned by Derek's actions to actually put any effort at all into throwing a fit. Not that she would have.

'What am I talking about? Of course I would! He nearly kissed me!' she thought, outraged.

She sat in her newest hotel room in the Bulgarian capital of Sofia, chewing at the skin near her thumb nail. This was their last night in Bulgaria, having played them earlier in the day and coming out with a narrow win of 370-340.

While it was all fine and dandy that they had won their first two games on the road (they beat Romania by over a hundred points three days previously), Charlotte had more pressing issues on her mind, no matter how important Quidditch was to her.

Just what was Derek trying to pull, anyway? First he scares the pants off her by pinning her to the wall (and reminding her very forcibly of a certain monster of her past) and then he tries to kiss her. Really, she had no idea just what was going on inside that boy's head, but she would be damned if she let it happen again.

"I have no feelings for him," she said aloud to herself.

But the rational side of her brain (the side she was refusing to acknowledge in this situation) said otherwise. She tried to figure out why she was ignoring her rational brain instead of listening to it like she usually did.

'Oh wait, that's right, I'm trying to ignore the fact that Derek has a freaking obsession with me!' she thought sarcastically, smacking herself on the forehead.

She didn't know what to do. If he had any kind of brain in his head, he'd go for some other girl who actually had an interest in him, something she absolutely, positively did not have. She tried to figure out what it was that he saw in her.

"Hmmm. I'm completely unremarkable. Brown hair, brown eyes. I'll probably end up with wrinkles by the time I'm thirty from all the sun. I'm a gargantuan, really, how many girls do I see walking around at almost six feet tall? Yeah, none. Well, okay, I've got boobs and a decent figure, but dammit, there's got to be more to it than that! There's got to be something else that's keeping him around!"

She was talking to herself again. She did that a lot when she was agitated.

She sighed and fell back onto her pillows, staring up at the ceiling. She thought she had Derek's type pegged to a tee. Charlotte always figured that he'd go for the girls that looked like models, you know, only more trashy and willing to spread their legs for some ridiculously good looking piece of testosterone?

"Well, he's got that going for him," she admitted aloud, then clapped a hand to her mouth, realizing what she just admitted.

She groaned. He was going to drive her insane, literally.

"He is not good looking!" she growled, squeezing her eyes shut to stop imagining his perfect face on the ceiling above her.

She soon realized that closing her eyes was about as effective as smashing herself headlong into a brick wall. She snorted, wondering if that just might be a good idea. Instead, she heaved herself out of bed and walked over to the double doors leading to the balcony.

She threw the doors open wide, inhaling the cooling night air. She walked right over to the railing and looked out over the city. She had a spectacular view of the nightlife at fifteen stories in the air. She leaned against the railing and closed her eyes as the night breeze ruffled her hair.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?"

Charlotte started out of her reverie and looked sideways to see that Derek had stepped out onto his balcony to get a taste of the view as well. He leaned on his railing, looking across the dark space of air separating them with a saucy grin on his face.

"D-Derek! I-huh, yeah. Yeah, great night," she stammered out, fully aware of the fact that the wanker had every idea of what she was thinking about with her eyes closed.

"Thinking about anything important?" he asked, still grinning.

She shook her head. "Not really, no. just the match earlier. Did you see the look on Dimitrov's face when he realized that the goal he had just scored didn't count because Callum had just caught the Snitch from right under Krum's nose?"

She had completely pulled that out of her arse, but she knew it would distract Derek, for the moment anyway.

She thought she caught a knowing twinkle in his eye as he nodded. "Quite an ending to a very close game, Charlie. But you did an amazing job out there today. All the Bulgarian agents were babbling about you. Quite the sense of pride I had when I told them I was representing you."

She didn't know what to say, so she reverted her gaze back out over the many buildings and streets surrounding them. Her stomach had just done a funny sort of flip at his praise. And then it plummeted when she finally realized that she'd been standing out there talking to him in her pajamas, like a complete fool. No wonder he was grinning so saucily.

Charlotte felt her face burn with embarrassment. She felt horribly exposed in her bumble bee patterned boxers and Puddlemere t-shirt.

"Well, I think I'll head back inside. I want to write home to let them know I'm all right," Charlotte managed to say in a would-be cheery voice.

"You sure? I was just about to ask you if you'd like to join me for a drink before calling it a night," Derek offered.

'Yeah, and I'm a baboon's backside,' she thought.

She shook her head. "No, really, thanks though. I'm sort of tired. I just want to get a letter ready to send home the next chance I get a hold of an owl. Good night!"

And with that, she turned on her heel and marched across the balcony, careful not to slam the French doors behind her. With a groan, she threw herself face down on her bed, beating at the pillows.

"You are an idiot! An absolute idiot!" she berated herself. "What kind of moron doesn't realize they're in pajamas before walking out in public where anyone could see them?"

She pictured Derek's saucy grin as he looked at her. A sudden warmth spread from her brain all the way down to her toes. She had thought Catalin had looked at her like that, but, now that she had seen the look on Derek's face, there was no way that Catalin could have pulled that off.

She gave an involuntary shudder. She realized she had no objection whatsoever to Derek looking at her. In her pajamas. Which was a lot less than he normally saw her in.

Mumbling to herself in an irritated fashion, Charlotte dragged herself upright once more and conjured a piece of parchment, a quill and some ink and commenced to writing to her family, careful to leave out some minorly important details, like Derek's behavior and the idea that Charlotte just might actually feel something for him.

"Mum would have a field day," she muttered as she signed her name to the letter and rolled it up.

* * *

Derek retreated back inside, clearly disappointed in her lack of enthusiasm to join him in a drink. But on the other hand, he did get to see her in her pajamas, which was almost as good as seeing her in that pleasant little bikini she owned.

He shook his head.

"You, my friend, either need to get laid or just need to snog that little superstar senseless," he told himself with a sigh.

Snogging Charlotte? Oh yes, he'd wanted that for ages. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to do it the other night when he had her cornered. But the gentleman in him told him that it was wrong, very wrong, for him to just plant one on her like that when she was cornered, with no opportunity to control the situation.

He could have sworn though that he had seen something stir in her eyes before she had bolted from the room. He was pretty sure it wasn't fear, although there was plenty of that there at the moment. He knew that she was very, very close to giving in to her impulse.

He gave a growl of frustration as he ran his hands through his white blonde hair. How could a girl be so damn difficult? He thought he had her pegged. Sweet, innocent good girl. Experiencing the world for the first time, scared out of her mind, no doubt. Most likely willing to cling to any source of comfort she could find.

"So why the hell is she not clinging to me?!" he almost cried in annoyance.

He went to the mini bar and yanked out a bottle of firewhiskey before throwing himself in the armchair near the French doors. He didn't bother with a glass as he knocked back almost half the bottle before being struck with a brilliant stroke of genius.

"_Fine, I was jealous. Happy?"_

Oh yes. He was quite jealous when that Catalin bloke was trying to make the moves on his sweet little Quidditch star.

He knew just what to do to provoke Charlotte.

Derek chuckled. "Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn."

* * *

The good news, Charlotte thought miserably, was that they lost to the Polish Grodzisk Goblins by only seventy points. The bad news was that Ace was slightly pissed off at her for what he called "mindless goal keeping."

After he had shouted at her for about ten minutes, the others had told him to lay off her, as she was, typically, reduced to tears whenever she was yelled at.

"Don't listen to him, Charlie," Pietro said in a low voice, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. "I thought you did brilliant. The Goblins were a handful, you know that."

Her mouth quivered as she tried to get her game robes folded up the right way so they would take up a minimal amount of space in her duffel bag.

"Oh, mon cheri, don't fret," Marc comforted, pulling her into a hug. "Ace is expecting too much. We're not perfect. He made mistakes today too, he's just looking for someone to take them out on."

Charlotte nodded against his massive pectoral muscles and sniffed back the rest of her tears. She needed to learn to grow a bit of a thicker skin to deal with Ace and Turner.

She now sat in a Wizard bar in the middle of downtown Budapest, staring at her gillywater through a haze of misery. Ace had refused to apologize after Chase had suggested it might do some good, and looked to be on the verge of shouting again when they left the lockers at the Goblins home field. She hadn't seen a sign of Derek all day, which was quite unusual, as he had an annoying habit of sticking to her like Stinksap.

"Another drink for you, miss?" the bartender asked her through a thick accent.

She nodded and knocked back the rest of her glass before accepting a new one with a faint smile of thanks to the bartender.

"You're not upset about Ace still, are you Charlie?" a voice asked in her ear over the music.

She turned to find Callum behind her, giving her a look of mild concern.

"Of course not," she said, trying to put some effort into not sounding so bleak.

He sat down and ordered a butterbeer. He took a drink before turning to her. "I don't think it's just Ace bothering you."

She took a sip of her drink. "No?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't. Are you still bugged by that creep reporter from that last press conference?"

She shrugged. "I can't pretend it didn't unsettle me a bit."

He looked thoughtful as he took another drink. "No, I suppose not."

They sat in companionable silence for awhile, each respecting the other's need to be with their thoughts.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Callum asked gently after awhile.

She looked at him. "What's there to talk about, really? He was a bastard. He tried to keep Mum from being happy. He didn't love us."

Callum nodded. He could sense she was going to say more, so he kept quiet.

"He threw me into a wall once, you know. Like I was a rag doll. And he tried to take on Oliver when he tried to get us to come home. That was his biggest mistake," she said with a faint small, remembering that fight so long ago.

"Don't piss off Oliver Wood," Callum said wisely, nodding.

They lapsed back into silence, finishing their drinks while the Weird Sisters played over the sound system.

"I still think something's bugging you," Callum declared as he set his empty butterbeer bottle down with a dull _thunk_ on the wood counter.

Charlotte looked surprised. Callum was better at perception than she had thought.

"Don't lie to me, and don't lie to yourself. You know there's something else bothering you," Callum said almost sternly.

She sighed. "You're right."

Callum sat up a little straighter, his face lacking that typical male smirk of superiority when they knew they were right about something. He just sat there, watching her, knowing she would talk when she was ready.

Charlotte phrased it carefully. "It's. . .Derek."

Callum tilted his head to the side. "What about him? Is he not treating you fairly?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Oh no, it's got nothing to do with the agent side of things."

Callum frowned, almost knowing where this was going. "Agent side of things?"

Charlotte gulped. She had sworn she would never, ever say what she was about to say to another living soul.

"He came very close to kissing me the last night we were in Bulgaria. And I almost let him. I keep telling myself that I don't have feelings for him, but I almost can't think straight when he's around. And then today, he wasn't around, and I was sort of counting on him being there after losing the game, you know, to reassure me that it wasn't the end of the world and all that. But he hasn't been around all day, and it's almost like it hurts. And I don't want to feel for him like this, because it just isn't professional," she finished almost breathlessly, like this was the only chance she had to get all this out.

Callum was hardly surprised. But he had an idea that he understood her reluctance a bit more than she understood it herself.

"Do you think," he paused to phrase what he was about to say more carefully, "that maybe your reluctance has something to do with your father?"

Charlotte looked surprised. "Oliver?"

Callum shook his head. "No. The other one."

She thought for a moment. "I guess I never really stopped to think about it that way. In a way, I suppose I am. I mean, my mum trusted him to take care of her, and me, when I came around. But in the end, that love only hurt us both. Maybe I am afraid to let someone else into my life. I don't want to wind up in the same situation that my mum was in."

Callum nodded. "You just don't want to wind up hurt. That's understandable."

She sighed. "Can I make myself un-like Derek?"

He smiled. "I don't think so. Have you considered telling him how you feel?"

Charlotte looked horrified. "Are you kidding me?! I know how he is! If I were to tell him how I really feel, his ego would go to his head even more so than it already is, and he'd hold it over my head!"

Callum smiled a little. "Somehow, I don't think so, Charlotte. I've seen the way he looks at you. I think he's wanted to be a part of your life for a long time. But I do think if you keep holding him off for much longer, he's going to look elsewhere."

That thought horrified Charlotte even more. She didn't want that to happen at all. If she was willing to finally admit that she had feelings for him, then dammit, she was going to tell him. The thought of him with some blonde bimbo was almost paralyzing.

Callum seemed to be looking at something. "Hey, I think you're in luck, Charlie. I think I see Derek over there in that booth in the corner."

She looked to where he was pointing. It was dark, but there was no mistaking that white blonde head anywhere.

Callum gave her a little nudge. "Go for it."

She slid off her barstool and took a deep breath. It was now or never. She slowly picked her way through the tables, making her way to the booth in the corner where Callum had spotted him.

She was mere feet from the booth when she stopped short, her eyes suddenly filling with tears as her heart felt like it was about to rip in two.

Derek was sitting there with some busty blonde, who was wrapped around him so tight it was hard to tell where she stopped and he began. She was kissing his neck as he was whispering in her ear.

Charlotte made to slip away unnoticed, but she tripped on a chair and fell. Derek looked up, alarmed, and saw her on the floor. He got up and started to extend a hand to her, but she scrambled up, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over.

"Charlotte," he started, his voice concerned.

"N-no! Get away from me! I'm fine! Go b-back to your b-blonde bimbo!" she cried, turning and running for the door.

Callum saw her fleeing and slipped off his stool to follow. He caught up with her as she waited for traffic to clear so she could cross the street and walk the few blocks back to the hotel.

She was crying.

"Charlie, what happened?" he asked worriedly.

"H-he was w-w-with s-some b-b-blonde whore!" she sobbed, still turning her head left and right, waiting for her chance to cross the street.

He shook his head and tried to reach out to comfort her, but she jerked away.

"I'm f-fine! Don't t-touch me!"

She seized her chance and darted across the street before he could follow. By the time he managed to get across the busy street, she had all but disappeared.

"Damn," he muttered, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk as he made his way to the hotel.

* * *

Derek had thought he had hatched the perfect plan. He would make Charlotte jealous, much like he had been when she had talked to Catalin.

After arriving in Budapest, he began his quest to find the perfect female specimen that would surely make Charlotte jealous. After partying with the boys last night after practice, he found the perfect one: blonde, busty, and a severe lack of brains. She was just pretty enough to make up for the lack of brains.

He asked to buy her a drink and they both got happily drunk. He asked her to show him around Budapest while the others played against the Goblins. She had agreed, and he met up with her outside the hotel once the team had left.

It was clear that she had other intentions other than dragging him around Budapest for the day, and although he was sorely tempted by a quick shag and go, he kept his plan to the main path. He suggested the bar once he was sure the game was over. He knew the team would either celebrate or wallow in misery together there, which meant Charlotte would surely be there.

He hadn't counted on her reaction. He was hoping she'd get extremely pissed off, maybe yell at him for a bit, call him a hypocrite, then storm off, leaving him to follow and explain himself once he caught up with her.

When he saw the tears in her eyes, he knew he had screwed up big time. All pretense of continuing action with the blonde bimbo behind him was lost as he watched her flee the bar. He caught the sound of her sobs as she fled.

He watched Callum go after her, knowing he'd be quite stupid to try to catch up to them. Callum was quiet, but it was the quiet types you had to watch out for. Derek was afraid he'd wind up with a busted face if he went after them now.

He sank back down into the booth with the blonde, shaking her off when she tried to paw him again. He downed the rest of his butterbeer in one gulp and paid for the drinks. He barely thanked the blonde for her services as he left.

He scanned the street quickly for any sign of Charlotte or Callum, but he didn't see them. Knowing they had went back to the hotel, he made his way slowly down the street, his hands in his pockets, his head hung low.

He had thought his plan was brilliant. He hadn't counted on hurting her. Of course, he didn't really stop to think that maybe she had felt something for him after all. That maybe all her pushing away was an attempt to keep her thoughts straight while she tried to sort it all out.

"Stupid ass," he muttered to himself as he crossed the street and made his way into the hotel.

There was no sign of either team member as he walked through the lobby and waited for an elevator to come.

He cursed himself silently on the ride up to the twelfth floor, feeling like this was the longest damn elevator ride of his life.

He stepped out of the elevator after checking to see that the hallway was clear. He didn't want any confrontation with Callum. He made his way down the hall, past the rooms of the others, straining his ears to see if he could hear any sort of sound coming from Charlotte's room.

He stopped outside the door and stuck his ear right up to it, listening. He didn't hear any sobbing or talking. He wondered if she was even in there at all. He wondered, with a jolt in his stomach, if she didn't just beg Callum to take her home or away from the hotel.

He leaned up against the wall and sighed. He had royally screwed things up. What if she never forgave him? What if she never spoke to him again?

He kneaded his forehead with his fist, building up enough courage to knock on her door. He took a deep breath.

_Knock, knock._

He stepped back and waited. Did he hear footsteps? Instinctively, he looked around the hallway, but it was empty.

Charlotte's door cracked open with a sudden jerk. Derek snapped his head around to see her face in the crack. Her eyes were red and puffy and she was glaring at him.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly. "Come to have a good gloat?"

Her tone was so icy that it took him every ounce of resolution he had not to walk away.

"Are you all right?"

Her glare hardened. "I'm just fantastic, Derek. What do you want?"

He gulped. "Can we talk?"

She continued to glare at him. "About what?"

"Charlotte, please?"

After a moment, her face disappeared from view and the door was flung open. She walked away from him as he entered the room and shut the door behind him.

She sat back down on her bed, glaring daggers at him all the while. He noticed the used tissues laying on the bedspread. Thankfully, Callum was nowhere in sight.

"Where's your blonde whore? Had enough of her already? Thought you'd come here for afters?"

Derek hadn't thought Charlotte was capable of such venom.

"No, Charlotte, please let me-"

"Explain?" she finished.

"Yes," he said desperately.

She laughed harshly. "What's there to explain, Derek? I'm not stupid. I must have bored you, so you went after the first thing that showed an interest in getting into your pants!"

"No!" he cried. "It's not like that!"

"Then what's it like?!" she yelled at him, her eyes filling up again.

It took a lot of balls for him to admit to his plan. "I. . .I wanted to make you. . .jealous."

If it was possible, the room became all the more icier.

"You wanted to make me jealous? You wanted to make me jealous, Derek?" her tone was rising.

"Yes! I wanted to make you jealous! I'm sorry! It was stupid! I thought that maybe if I made you jealous like you made me jealous back in Bulgaria, then-"

"Then what? I would realize how head over heels in love I am with you?" she asked sarcastically, her red rimmed eyes brimming with tears.

He gulped, then nodded feebly.

"Well, that's just funny, isn't it? Because you know why I came over to that corner of the bar in the first place?"

He shook his head, afraid to know.

"I came over there to tell you how I really felt about you. I had just had a lovely little chat with Callum, and he helped me realize what I was feeling. And you know what he told me?"

He shook his head again.

"He told me that I had better tell you soon, otherwise you would start to look elsewhere," she gave a bitter laugh. "Guess I was too late after all."

"No! Charlotte, please, it's not like that at all," he pleaded, sliding off his chair and kneeling in front of her.

"I don't know how else it is, Derek," Charlotte said, failing to keep the hurt out of her voice this time.

"Please, just listen to me," he begged desperately. "I just thought that if I made you jealous, you would hate the idea of someone else being with me, and you'd realize that maybe you really did like me, after all. It was stupid of me."

"Yes, it was. Maybe if you would have given me the chance to get my head on straight, I would have come to you," she told him.

"And you did," he said almost urgently, hoping to remind her of what she wanted to tell him earlier.

She sniffed, playing with the tissue in her hands, not looking at him. "I was going to tell you that I felt something for you. It took me awhile to figure it out. I was afraid. My past is affecting me more than I had thought it would. I was afraid to let love in. I didn't want it to hurt me like it hurt my mum. I was going to tell you all this, and I was going to ask you if maybe, by some God-given miracle, we could just take it slow, to see how things would play out. Oliver always said love and Quidditch didn't mix, after all."

Derek was silent for a moment, digesting what she had just said.

"Charlotte," he said.

"Derek, just go," she gasped out, failing to keep her tears from falling.

"Charlotte," he tried again weakly.

"Just go!" she cried, turning away from him.

He stood up, looking down on her shaking frame as she tried to hold back the sobs.

"I'm not letting you go that easily," he whispered fiercely, blinking his eyes quickly to rid them of any evidence of tears.

Charlotte heard the door close and gasped, letting her sobs go.


	13. Chapter 12: Slow to Start

**

* * *

**I would hope that I don't have to keep repeating myself here. . . 

**A.N.** Okay, so I realized I made a big mistake in the last chapter. All the drama that unfolded with Derek and Charlotte was meant to take place in the Polish capital of Warsaw, not Budapest, like I wrote. I think I still had my mind stuck in Budapest, which is in Hungary, of all places. So if I confused anyone, I apologize. Now, on with the story!

* * *

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Twelve**

Derek wondered if Charlotte would ever find it in her heart to forgive him. She had remained silent during their stay in Germany, where Puddlemere managed to successfully hold off the Heidelberg Harriers. She wouldn't even so much as look at him when they were in Luxembourg, where Puddlemere trounced the Bigonville Bombers.

He sighed as he took another sip of his drink. He sat alone at the bar of the hotel they were all staying at in Paris while the team took on the Quiberon Quafflepunchers.

"I'll take another one," he called at the bartender.

Derek wondered if there was some kind of simple solution to the situation that he could have overlooked. Then he gave a miserable sort of chuckle, knowing that when it came to women, there really was no easy solution to a fight.

He had meant what he said to her before leaving her room that night. He was not going to just let her walk away from him without a fight. She could fight against him, but he knew that he would always fight for her and fight with her, no matter what.

"What are you doing, sitting down here alone?"

Derek turned to find Marc slipping onto the barstool next to him.

"Drowning my emotions," Derek said sourly, tipping his glass back.

Marc ordered a gillywater and surveyed Derek carefully. "It's Charlotte, isn't it?"

Derek nodded, torn between wanting to talk about her and wanting to just be alone.

"You've screwed up, my friend," Marc said, nodding wisely.

Derek made a face. "Thanks, Marc. I couldn't have figured that one out."

Marc shrugged. "She's hurting, you know. You may think that her silence is hurting you, but what you did to her damn near killed her inside."

Derek turned to look at Marc. "She's talked to you about me, has she?"

Again, Marc shrugged in a noncommittal way. "She was sad. I listened to her."

"Why won't she talk to me?! _I'm _the one she hates right now! If she'd even just yell at me, I'd be able to figure this all out!"

Marc shook his head. "Yeah, you're the one she's mad at right now. But was it her fault? No, it wasn't. She has nothing to set right. You do. She won't speak until you come to her."

Derek rubbed his forehead. "Why do women have to be so damn complicated?"

Marc frowned. "Why did you have to be such a jealous bastard?"

Derek didn't take offense. "Quite blunt, my friend, but quite true."

Marc finished his drink and slid off his stool. Before leaving, he clapped Derek on the shoulder. "Just remember to take it slow. She won't instantly forgive you, you know."

Derek mulled over what he could do to possibly get Charlotte to talk to him again. The International Quidditch Agent Convention was being held in the very hotel they were staying in here in Paris. Derek had attended earlier in the day and found that it would last through the duration of their stay. It would conclude with a sort of celebratory ball Saturday evening.

The light bulb clicked on in Derek's head.

"Bingo," he muttered.

* * *

Charlotte had done a lot of thinking in the past few days. Well, she starting thinking only after she had cried out all her hurt and anger at Derek. Which had, admittedly, taken nearly a whole night to do.

She wondered just what it was about him that had her so mental. She had tried everything in her power during school to keep resisting his attempts to woo her, which, in her opinion, was pretty damn hard to do, as they were both the Heads of the school their final year and had to share a dorm with each other.

Charlotte grinned a little as she recalled a memorable incident the night she had returned to the castle from Christmas break. She had arrived back before Derek had returned, and she was quite happy to take advantage of the peace and quiet of the dorm. She had taken a blasting hot shower and threw on her favorite pair of pajamas: a white tank and her favorite black boxers, which were, sadly enough, a little too short to ever allow the public to see.

Charlotte had thrown her favorite CD in the stereo that had been rigged to work despite all the magic in the air and proceeded to make a complete fool of herself, singing at the top of her lungs and dancing all over the dorm, which also included dancing on top of the coffee table in front of the couch, where Derek had found her, shaking her arse around like he had never seen before in his life. It had taken a few minutes for Charlotte to realize that he'd been standing there, his mouth open and his eyes bugged out of his head like a ninny.

She had shouted herself hoarse at him, something that she would have never done in normal circumstances back when she was in school, and told him if he ever told anyone what he had seen, Oliver would be more than willing to hunt him down and kick the living crap out of him.

Derek had agreed to keep his mouth shut, but every so often, when they were both in their common room studying, he would mention it to her, tease her, infuriate her just to watch her reaction.

Charlotte realized now that all the teasing had been for his benefit. He had some twisted desire to see her all pissed off and red in the face, which, she admitted to herself, was something that was very hard to accomplish in her school days.

She also had to admit that she liked to get mad at him. In her own bizarre way, that was her way of flirting with him. And he knew damn well that's what it was, which was why he constantly tried to annoy her.

Charlotte had thought hard of all the reasons why she liked Derek so much. Sure, he was a Malfoy, and an arrogant arse at that (which he really couldn't help), but she also knew just from dealing with him as an agent that he was a solid, dependable person who took his work very seriously and would hate to let anybody down.

She knew that not speaking to him was downright killing him softly, but she was in no hurry to make amends with him. She wanted him to come seek her out first, for him to really grow up and face his mistakes like a man. And when he did, she just might be able to forgive him, because she knew that it would take just about every particle in him to admit that he was wrong.

Charlotte sighed and looked out the window at the starry Parisian night from her place on the hotel bed. She could only hope that the city would live up to its romantic reputation while she was here.

* * *

Derek sat toward the back of the crowded banquet hall, barely paying attention to the guest speaker who was lecturing all his fellow agents on the importance of their clients' reputations and how big of a role the media would have on their lives.

'Yeah, that's no surprise,' Derek thought bitterly as he remembered that bastard who tried to ruin Charlotte career after Puddlemere's first win with her as Keeper.

Ever since Derek had the idea to invite Charlotte to accompany him to the ball at the end of this convention, he could think of almost nothing else. He had a million other things on his mind _but _this convention. If he had it his way, he would be out on the field watching the team practice before their game against the Quafflepunchers this evening, which he planned on going to, regardless of what was going on here at the convention.

"I'm sure there are some of you here today who know exactly how important your client's reputation is. I would wager that, at some point or another, you have had to deal with the media and falsehoods and rumors concerning your clients," the speaker was droning.

Derek really wanted to ask this guy just what his point was. As if he could stand up there for an hour and a half and drone on about the importance of keeping your nose clean and rumor-free!

He glanced at his watch. It was almost three in the afternoon. This guy had been plowing on for a good hour already. He sighed. If he had to listen to another half hour of this guy, he was pretty sure he was going to have to blow his brains out. Which was not the idea solution, for then he'd never get the chance to apologize to Charlotte and declare his feelings for her.

Ah, yes, his feelings. Derek had done a lot of thinking as well. He came to the conclusion that he was a heartless bastard who deserved nothing less than to be fed to a starving acromantula. Any guy who had the nerve to break Charlotte's heart deserved nothing less, and probably a lot more torture than an acromantula.

Derek realized that he had been an idiot. Well, even more so than usual. He was tired of the one-night stands and the blonde bimbos with the big boobs. Okay, so boobs were something he could never get tired of, but that wasn't the point, dammit! He had no idea what he was thinking going round with all the trashy females he'd been with. Charlotte was no comparison at all. For one, she was a sight nicer than any of the other women he'd been with. All they cared about was a quick shag and go, which was what Derek was only after in the first place.

But the only thing that Derek got from these liaisons was an empty feeling. Sure, he got a hell of a lot of satisfaction from them all, but it all boiled down to one thing: Derek was turning into a softy. He didn't want a thousand different women in his bed on a different night, every night, all the time. He wanted one woman that he could come home to and love, no matter what. He wanted that other half of his heart, and he wanted her to come round sooner rather than later.

Derek rubbed his eyes tiredly. This idiot was still droning on, and Derek had been lost in his thoughts for a good fifteen minutes. He glanced at his watch again. The game was at five, and he had wanted to shower and change before Apparating off to the field. He had to look his best, as a majority of his fellow French counterparts would be present at the game as well.

At long last, the speaker finally concluded his speech with a dire warning that if they all weren't careful about managing their clients and their media image, they would be out of a job as well as their clients.

'Right little ray of sunshine, he was,' Derek thought irritably as he joined the throng of agents trying to shove through the double doors at the back of the hall, clearly glad to get out of the room.

He made his way slowly to the elevators, which were sure to be packed with his fellow agents, his mind on Charlotte and the game that was to commence in less than two hours. He wondered how nervous she was, and, shamefully, if she was wondering if he'd be there this time.

He knew she was probably pissed at him for blowing off that match when he was working his master plan to make her jealous, on top of every other rotten thing he did to her that day. He sighed. Somehow, he was having better luck screwing up his chances with Charlotte than he had with getting her to go out with him.

He arrived back at his room and kicked off his shoes before grabbing some cleaner, more professional looking clothes to wear to the match. He was, after all, representing

Quidditch's finest player, or so they said.

Derek jumped in the shower and let the hot water stream down over his head and the rest of his body. He was quite tense from all the added stress of Charlotte being mad at him, and the water felt good. He made up his mind while he was washing. Tonight would be the night that he would make up to Charlotte and ask her to accompany him to the closing ball of the IQAC.

He dried off and dressed himself, feeling marginally happier than he had been for the past few days. He just hoped that Charlotte would accept his apology.

* * *

Charlotte leaned up against the lockers, breathing slowly and trying to ignore the twisting of her stomach. She didn't know why she was so nervous for this match. They had won their last three or four games. They were doing better at this point in the season with her than they were last season at this time.

Sure, the Quafflepunchers were tough, but they had a bit of an annoying habit to play the game with more attention to showmanship than to the actual game itself. Yes, they were frequent League winners, but Charlotte thought privately that it was only because the opposing teams were too shocked by the Quafflepunchers' behavior on the field to actually focus on the game.

As Charlotte steadied her nerves, she wondered briefly if Derek was actually going to show up to this match. She had a feeling he might, after all, he was dealing with a bunch of high ranking international Quidditch agents, who would surely have heard about his job representing her, and would want to show up to the match to see if she was really worth all the hype. And Derek would feel obligated to be here, letting his ego get the best of him and boast loudly about her.

She shook her head. She shouldn't be worrying about whether he would be there or not. She had to focus on the game. Besides, it was obvious that he didn't feel the way she thought he did about her. He still hadn't sought her out to apologize, and was keeping as much distance as possible from her.

But, wait a minute. As he was leaving her room that night, after trying to explain himself, he had said something. He wasn't going to let her go that easily, that's what he had said.

She took another deep breath. Sure, he wasn't going to let her go that easily. Well, if he wasn't going to let her go that easily, then why was he avoiding her like the Plague?

"Wood!"

Charlotte shook herself out of her reverie. "What?"

Ace was looking at her with a cross of a glare and a look of mild concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, why?"

"You look peaky. What are you thinking about?"

She shook her head. There was no way Ace was going to find this out. He'd have a bloody field day.

"I'm fine, Ace. Really. I'm just a little nervous, that's all."

He looked at her suspiciously for a moment, but then turned away, apparently satisfied. He turned to address the other guys.

"All right, you mates. This is the Quafflepunchers we're dealing with here. You know how they have a tendency to put a little flair into their performance, so don't let it surprise you. The only reason they play so flamboyantly is to try to through the opposing team off. So just focus on your job and don't get distracted."

They all exchanged knowing grins. The Quafflepunchers played in robes of shocking pink, and combined with their interesting approach to the game, they had earned themselves a reputation equivalent to a bunch of pansies.

"Game time! Let's go!" Ace declared, listening to the distant roar of the crowd.

Charlotte felt the beginnings of excitement flutter in her stomach. She shouldered her broom and held her head a little higher as she followed her team out to the pitch. The crowd was loud and exuberant, cheering for their respective teams. Charlotte couldn't help but grin at the highly charged atmosphere. This was partly the reason she decided to play for a living.

She fed off the excitement and the competition.

Ace marched forward to shake hands with the Quafflepunchers captain. With the bright sunlight reflecting off the team robes, the shocking pink seemed almost blinding. Charlotte found it rather clever; it would be an added obstacle to get past while playing them.

At the ref's whistle, fourteen Quidditch players mounted their brooms, getting into stance for a quick takeoff when the second blast of the whistle came.

At the second blast of the whistle, they were off. The Quafflepunchers looked like great pink blurs as they shot into the air, streaking off after Chase, who had managed to grab the Quaffle.

Charlotte raced off for the goals, her mind completely focused on the game now. The screaming of the crowd seemed oddly muted to her as she watched the action out in front of her. Marc and Turner were streaking around after the Bludgers, beating them ferociously toward the opposing team. Ace, Pietro, and Chase were looping around each other, passing the Quaffle smoothly from one to another. Callum soared high above them, keeping his eyes peeled for the Snitch.

One of the Quiberon Chasers managed to get a grip on the Quaffle and took off in Charlotte's direction. Her eyes narrowed and she slackened her grip on her broom. She was ready for battle, and there was no way that he was going to win.

He had a cheerful grin on his face as he rushed toward her, Quaffle at the ready. She knew he was about to feint, he was aiming for her left, but his body language said he was going for her right. At the last second, he made his move, and she lunged for it, snatching it cleanly from the air and tossing it back into play, where it was grabbed by Pietro.

"QUITE THE SAVE BY KEEPER WOOD! AND IT'S STILL ZERO TO ZERO,

PUDDLEMERE IN POSSESSION!"

Twenty minutes later, the Quafflepunchers were in the lead by thirty points. Charlotte wasn't worried though, Callum never failed them, and she knew that Ace and Pietro had a few tricks up their sleeves to pull ahead.

Charlotte watched as Chase pulled off a clever Sloth Grip Roll and passed the Quaffle off to Pietro, who was soaring underneath. He took off with the Quaffle under his arm, his face screwed up in concentration. Ace looped an opposing Beater and took the Quaffle from Pietro so quickly that the crowd gasped. Quick as a wink, Ace managed to slip past the Keeper at the other end of the pitch and put the Quaffle through one of the hoops.

"AND IT'S 180 TO 160, THE QUAFFLEPUNCHERS STILL IN THE LEAD!"

Charlotte managed to save the next three attempts to score by the Quafflepunchers, while Chase pulled off a truly spectacular goal by dive-bombing the Keeper, catching him off guard, bringing the game within ten points. If Callum managed to catch the Snitch now, the game would be theirs.

A Bludger went zinging past her ear. She gasped and almost lost her grip on her broom. Marc came pelting past her, swinging his bat.

"Sorry, Charlie! Little bastard's putting up a hell of a fight!" he yelled, smashing it back toward the action of the game.

Then, all at once, the crowd gave a collective gasp. Callum and the Quafflepunchers' Seeker were hurtling neck and neck with each other toward the ground. It was as though someone had switched off the volume. The crowd watched with bated breath to see who would get there first. The two were in such a steep dive that Charlotte was sure they wouldn't be able to pull out of it before slamming into the ground. Apparently, the Quafflepunchers' Seeker thought so too, for he chickened out at the last second and pulled out of the dive, just feet from the ground. Callum stretched out his hand and pulled the Snitch from the air before pulling himself out of the dive to skim the grass with his feet.

The crowd exploded into cheering. Charlotte was screaming happily as she zoomed off to join the rest of the guys, who smashed into each other midair, yelling and pumping their fists into the air. She hesitated before joining into the fray, but then Marc grabbed the arm of her robes and yanked her into the mass of testosterone, yelling all the while.

Out of the corner of her eye, one person in the crowd caught her eye. It was probably because he was the only one who wasn't jumping up and down, yelling and acting like a crazy person. Derek was standing there, clapping nonetheless, but otherwise ignoring the fact that about seven or eight other foreign agents were clapping him on the back and congratulating him on Charlotte's performance.

Their eyes locked. His eyes said he was unsure, but the smile on his face was broad as he continued clapping. Charlotte felt slightly flustered and managed to get a small smile on her face before turning back to the guys to yell and carry on like normal.

* * *

Charlotte decided against going out to celebrate with the guys and instead returned to her hotel room, where she took a long bath, allowing herself to just lay in the suds and soak. In her opinion, there was no better way to celebrate. She had a bottle of wine accompanying her wine glass on the side of the tub, and her favorite nightshirt sitting on the sink, waiting for her to slip into once she dried off.

She took a sip of wine and stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. It was almost eery that she had found Derek right away in the crowd. There had to have been more than a few thousand people there, so how was it that she had managed to spot Derek almost immediately?

He looked so calm, just standing there clapping. He was smiling, sure, but he had looked quite unsure, as though he was afraid she would glare at him coldly and turn away. But she didn't. And that surprised her.

"Maybe I'm not as mad at him as I thought," she thought aloud.

She soaked in peace for a few more minutes before draining her wine glass and stepping out of the tub. She came to the conclusion that she would probably accept Derek's apology, if he ever decided to seek her out.

She dried off and waved her wand to dry her hair before running a brush through it a couple times. Grabbing her wine bottle, she retreated to her bed, where she laid in silence before deciding that the silence was too loud. Another wave of her wand and CD player she brought with her turned on, playing some quiet music.

She sighed. It was unusual to have a quiet moment in her life. Right now, it was nice, albeit very strange. Something was missing, but she couldn't quite place it.

The music had almost lulled her to sleep when there came a knock at the door. She sat up, a little confused, wondering if she had actually fallen asleep and dreamt it. But then there was another knock, and she yawned as she got up and shuffled to the door. It was probably one of the guys, checking to see if she was all right before they all turned in for the night.

She cracked open the door in a sleepy haze. She really wanted to go back to sleep. But she grew wide awake when she saw who it was.

Derek stood outside her door, again looking unsure, as though he was afraid she would shout at him and slam the door in his face. He was holding a bunch of flowers.

"I hope I didn't wake you up," he said quietly, the apology in his tone.

She slid a hand across her eyes. "Not really."

He held out the flowers to her. "Do you think we could talk?"

She opened the door a little wider. She took the flowers hesitantly before admiring them.

"Come in," she said softly, turning and walking back into her room, leaving the door open for him.

He followed her inside and watched as she conjured a vase for the flowers. He watched her every move as she took them carefully from their wrappings and arranged them in the vase. He realized he could never grow tired of watching her. She was like a bird, very graceful in her movements.

She sat down on her bed, tucking her legs under her before turning her gaze on him. He sat in the chair at the end of the bed, his eyes now looking sorry.

"I came to apologize," he said quietly.

She tilted her head slightly, surveying him. She stayed quiet, though. She knew he would speak regardless of what she said.

"I should have realized that I could never force you to feel anything that you didn't want to feel. I had no idea that you had started to have feelings for me. What I did was incredibly stupid, incredibly uncalled for, and very childish. I should have known that it would have hurt you beyond what I had thought. I know you don't like to be thought of as fragile, but you do have feelings, which I didn't take into account. Once again, I was only thinking of myself and the possible outcomes that would work in my favor. Charlotte, I am an idiot, and for that, I am truly sorry."

He hung his head and stared at the carpet. He felt like such a fool that he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye anymore. He wouldn't blame her in the least if she decided to fire him and tell him to stay out of her life forever.

She watched him as he spoke and saw the emotion in his eyes. She knew he was sorry, truly sorry, not just saying it to get into her good graces again. She knew it when he could no longer look her in the face. He was ashamed. He had never felt this ashamed in his life.

She got off the bed quietly and padded softly over to where he was sitting. She knelt down on the floor, peering up into his face. He looked surprised. She put her hands over both of his. His eyes flicked to her hands, then back to her face.

"You're ashamed, aren't you?" she asked softly.

He nodded.

"You've never felt ashamed in your life, have you?"

He shook his head.

"You don't like not speaking to me, do you?"

Again, he shook his head. "I've never felt worse in my life."

She hid her smile. "You don't want to feel like this anymore, do you?"

His hands twitched. "No."

It was almost too much for him to bear. She looked so sweet and innocent, sitting on her legs like that, he night shirt tucked around her. The look of absolute understanding in his eyes almost killed him. He couldn't understand how he had wanted to upset her like he did. Every particle of his brain was screaming at him to just kiss her already, but he held back.

"I forgive you, Derek."

His eyes snapped back to her face. She smiled softly at him, her eyes telling him it was all right again. He took strength from this look.

"Tomorrow is the last day of the convention," he said slowly, watching her face. "It's a tradition to end the convention with a ball on the last night. We've been told to bring someone along. I was thinking, would you like to accompany me? Nothing would make me happier."

Her face lost some of the confidence it held, only to be replaced with a look of shyness. She looked away from his face for a moment, trying to compose her face so he wouldn't know what was going on inside her.

She felt like she wanted to burst. Derek Malfoy asked her to accompany him to the convention ball. Derek Malfoy finally grew up a little bit and admitted he was in the wrong, and even better, had apologized for something for the first time in his life. Derek Malfoy was thinking of someone other than himself.

She looked back up at him. "I would like that, Derek. I would like to go with you."

His face broke into a grin. "You would?"

"I would."

He gave a laugh and pulled her off the floor and into his arms. She was shocked for a moment, but then relaxed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie. I would never hurt you like that again," he whispered in her ear, sending fire down her spine.

She smiled against his shirt. "I know you won't."

He held her tightly. He didn't want to let her go again, ever.

"Do you have something to wear?" he asked abruptly, pulling back from her a bit to look her in the face.

She shook her head.

"We'll go shopping tomorrow," he assured her.

She looked alarmed. "Derek, I appreciate it, but I can buy my own-"

"Hush," he said sternly. "Think of it as part of my apology."

"But-"

He put a finger against her lips. "Shhhh."

She felt slightly dizzy. He was much too close at the moment.

"Derek," she said softly, wishing the world would stop spinning.

His hands were rubbing her back lightly. "Mmm?"

"Could we just take things slow to start?" she whispered, closing her eyes and inhaling his masculine scent.

He kissed her forehead very gently. "Whatever you want."

She burrowed her head into his chest. "Right now, this is all I could want."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her. "I think I can handle that."


	14. Chapter 13: I'm In Over My Head

**Disclaimer:** For what feels like the millionth time, no, I don't own this.

**A.N. **All in all, I was rather pleased with the last chapter. I hope you all were, too. I think you'll like this chapter even more. Oh, and this will probably be the last official update of the summer, as I start school again on Wednesday. Updates after that will probably take a little longer, as I'll be working too, and trying to keep up with my schoolwork. Anyways, here we go! Chapter Thirteen! The title chapter comes from one of my favorite songs, "Over My Head" by The Fray.

* * *

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Charlotte awoke the next morning feeling giddy. It was quite a change of pace from the gloom that she had allowed to permeate her mind and body for the past week or so. Her heart felt whole and full of emotion again, and it wasn't the type of emotion that made her want to cry, it was the type of emotion that made her want to find Derek and snog him senseless.

She laughed aloud at that thought and buried her face in her hands. Snog Derek senseless? Where did that come from? Maybe all this giddiness was a bit of a bad thing. . .

Charlotte threw the covers off and sat up to stretch. The room was awash with bright sunlight, boosting her mood further, if it was possible to do so. She padded over to the doors and threw them open, allowing the warmth of the day to fill the room. She had better sense than to step out on the balcony in her pajamas in broad daylight, so she settled for allowing the breeze to tickle her skin and the freshness of the air to fill her lungs from safely inside her room.

She hummed a mindless little tune as she readied herself for the day. Derek was going to take her shopping for a dress to wear to the ball tonight after they ate lunch. She grabbed the easiest clothes to wear for a day of trying on dresses: a pair of track pants and a Weird Sisters band t-shirt. She was going against her original plan of wearing something nice, like a skirt or something. But when she thought about it, Derek had seen her at her worst, covered in mud and dripping wet from matches in the rain, and, at her least, in nothing but a towel.

She blushed as she remembered that day in the locker room. She had been so repulsed by the way his eyes had about bugged out of his head when he saw her in nothing but a towel. Now, she almost gave a shiver of pleasure. She knew now that she liked when he looked at her like that.

Charlotte giggled and rolled her eyes as she brushed her teeth. She was turning into a regular old sap. After Derek had left last night, once they had hashed things out and had basically declared their mutual feelings of undying attraction, her heart felt like a puddle of goo. Of course, not being used to feeling like that, she had sat down and wrote her mother a long letter, telling her what had happened, the whole story, from beginning to end. All she had to do now was find an owl to send it off to England, preferably today, so there would be no awkward questions when they arrived back home tomorrow.

She gave a little noise of impatience as she threw a dash of mascara on. She could just picture Oliver's reaction to seeing the two of them holding hands or something of the nature. Which was why she had expressly mentioned to Hermione that she was to explain the situation to Oliver in the best way that she could, which wouldn't result in decapitation on Derek's behalf.

She thought about what would happen to their relationship once they arrived back home as she brushed out her hair. There were still plenty of games left in the season, most of which would require a short Apparition trip to nearby teams, like the Ballycastle Bats and the Kenmare Kestrels. She knew she would see Derek regardless, as he was almost always present at the matches or tried to be at practice at least three times a week to "keep an eye on things," as he called it. Of course, there could be unseen complications, like Oliver pitching a fit and refusing to allow Derek to drop by the cottage, but, that's what Hermione was there for. After all, Hermione was the one who was adamantly pushing for Charlotte to get together with Derek in the first place.

Charlotte took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror. A few days ago, her face was pale, dark circles underlined her eyes, and she couldn't find a reason to smile. Now, her eyes were snapping with merriment, her mouth seemed to be frozen in a permanent grin, and her face was pleasantly flushed with excitement.

"I am pathetic," she announced to herself, shaking her head, but still grinning nonetheless.

She had sworn a long time ago that a boy would never, EVER be her sole reason for happiness. And she had managed to go almost nineteen years following that belief. But then Derek came along, and it was like she had received a Bludger to the head.

"A boy will never be my sole reason for happiness? Yeah, right," she snorted.

Well, he wasn't her sole reason for happiness. She had a blossoming Quidditch career, she was seeing the world for the first time, she had an amazing family who supported her every decision, and then, there was Derek. But not in any particular order.

There was a knock on her door. Slightly puzzled, she glanced at the clock on the night stand near the bed. Derek had agreed to drop by around noon so they could grab a bite to eat before going shopping. She still had a half an hour before he came, so she had no idea who it could be at the door.

She jerked it open to find Chase standing there.

"Good morning," he greeted her. "I was hoping that I didn't wake you up, but I guess you've been up for awhile."

She shrugged. "Not too long. I just finished getting ready for the day, actually. So what's up?"

"The rest of us are going to venture out into the city for the day, you know, catch some Parisian sights. Do you want to go with us?"

She rolled her eyes. "Parisian sights? More like Parisian women, Chase."

He grinned guiltily. "Okay, fine. You win. But really, do you want to come along? We're leaving in a few minutes."

She shook her head. "Thanks for the offer, but, erm, Derek and I are going out for the day."

He smiled, looking a little relieved. "So you two have made up then?"

Charlotte nodded enthusiastically. "He's invited me to accompany him to the closing ball tonight for the convention!"

"Good for you, Charlie. But does this mean that you guys are, like, a couple?"

Again, she shrugged. "We both agreed that we want to take things slow, to see where things go, you know?"

Chase nodded. "Well, you guys have fun today. And we all want to see what you look like in a dress before you two go to this ball thing tonight, got it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," he said, and his tone made it perfectly clear that the subject was closed.

"Hmph. Fine. You guys have fun out there today too. And no spying on us!" she called at

Chase's retreating back.

He tossed her a saucy grin and a wave as he stepped into the elevator further down the hallway.

She sighed and rolled her eyes again as she shut her door.

"Men," she muttered, shaking her head.

* * *

Derek greeted her at her door with a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, love. Are you ready to go shopping?"

Charlotte's cheeks went pink. "Lead the way."

He took her hand and led her down the hall to the elevator, where they stood for a few minutes, waiting for it to arrive. Charlotte was very much aware of how his hand felt holding hers, and she hoped hers wouldn't break out into a clammy sweat, like they usually did when she was nervous about something.

They stepped into the elevator when it arrived, and Derek pushed the button for the lobby. The doors slid shut, and for a few moments, all was silent, except for the ding of the elevator as it descended the floors of the hotel.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Derek inquired.

She smiled. "Very well, thank you. I do believe I owe you the credit for it."

He grinned. "Why, thank you. I have to say, I slept quite well myself. For which the credit goes to you."

She smiled shyly and looked down at her feet, hoping to hide the blush on her face.

"So do you know what kind of dress you're looking for?"

They kept up their endless chatter as they left the elevator and walked out of the hotel into the bright sunshine. The more Charlotte talked to Derek, the more she began to lose her shyness. Slowly, the walls she had spent so much time building against him were falling down.

"Where do you want to go for lunch?" he asked her as they strolled along hand in hand.

She shrugged. "I don't think I've ever really had French food before. Surprise me."

He grinned. "My pleasure."

He led her to a small café of sorts and told her to sit down. It wasn't a fancy place, as it didn't appear that there were waiters around to take their order. Instead, Derek disappeared inside for about ten minutes, during which Charlotte sat watching all the people who were walking through the square in which the café was located. When Derek reappeared, he was laden with food spread over two trays.

Her eyes must have grown huge at the sight of all the food, for Derek chuckled as he set the trays down on the table.

"I thought you might like to try a little of everything," he explained as he set a fork in front of

her, as well as a glass of wine.

"Derek, I can't eat all this! I have dresses to try on!" she exclaimed as she picked up her fork.

"You're forgetting. I'm male. I eat a lot. I'll make up for whatever you don't eat."

They picked up their wine glasses and clinked them together.

"Cheers," Derek said. "Now, let's eat."

Miraculously, the two managed to eat their way through almost all the food before them. Charlotte was pleased to find out that while most of the food looked heavy and filling, Derek had actually chosen foods that would make the two feel less stuffed when they were finished.

Derek sat back in his chair after dropping his fork, sighing with delight. "I'd have to say that's probably the best damn meal we've eaten on this whole trip."

Charlotte nodded as she took one last bite of the chocolate gateau. "I think I like French food now."

He drained the last of his wine and stood up. "Are you finished?"

She nodded as she too finished the last of her wine.

"Let me go take these back inside and then we'll go looking for a dress for you," he said as

he picked up the trays and disappeared back inside.

Charlotte strolled to the little bookstore next to the café and looked at the window displays while she waited for Derek. A lot of the titles were foreign, but the cover designs of many were colorful and pretty, so she amused herself with the pictures as she looked.

Derek reappeared and offered his arm to her. She took it with a smile and they made their way slowly through the square, looking at all the window displays, and occasionally stopping in one of the small dress shops they found along the way.

"No. Absolutely not," Charlotte declared as she wrinkled her nose at the dress Derek was

holding up for her.

"Why not?" he asked, his laughing at her.

"Derek," she said with pained tolerance, "not only is that dress about five sizes too small

for me, it's orange and green. Are you color blind?"

He turned it so he could give it another once over. "Oh, I don't know, Charlie, this just might be the dress for you."

He laughed at the look on her face as she turned away to move further down the wall to look at the other dresses.

She found nothing that struck her as ball-worthy in that shop, so they continued on to the other shops. She could tell Derek was particularly enjoying this; he had a habit of picking out either the absolute most ugliest thing he could find, or he would pick out something that was a little more than revealing for her.

"How about this, Charlie?" Derek called from near the front of the shop.

She turned to find him holding a deep green dress with a plunging neckline. It was pretty, there was no denying, but the neckline looked to her as though it plunged straight to the belly button. Not particularly stunning, in her opinion.

"A little low cut, don't you think?" she asked as she moved closer to scrutinize.

He gave her a little grin. "I think it's perfect."

"You would," she muttered as she fingered the material. "Derek! The sides are slit all the way up to the hip bone!"

His grin widened.

"Nope. I'm not wearing it. Put it back," she dismissed.

He pretended to pout as he put it back.

At long last, Charlotte found something that was just perfect. Well, Derek had actually found it, and she wasn't exactly crazy about it at first, but he chivvied her off to the dressing room to try it on, and she fell in love with it.

It was a strapless, floor length gown of deep royal blue. It had a metallic sheen to it in the light, and it was gathered in various places throughout the front of the skirt. There was a thick black tie around the waist that tied in front. The back laced up like a corset. It was absolutely, one hundred percent perfect.

Derek banged on the door. "Come on, Charlie, let me see it on you!"

She smiled as she turned this way and that in front of the mirror. "No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?!" he exclaimed. "I'm the one paying for it!"

"Which I very much appreciate, but you're not seeing this dress on me until tonight, when it's time to go to this ball."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Her smile widened. "Nope, not kidding."

"You are infuriating, woman!"

She carefully pulled the dress off. "But that's what keeps you around."

She could hear him muttering darkly on the other side of the door and couldn't help but laugh softly at him.

"I heard that!"

"I meant you to."

She emerged from the dressing room with the dress draped carefully over her arm. She grinned at Derek when he gave her a sour look.

"I have to wait until eight o'clock tonight to see you in this thing?" he asked dispiritedly.

She nodded. "Yes, you do!"

He looked at his watch and his face brightened. "Well, the good thing is that it's only three hours away. Damn, you're indecisive. We've spent almost four hours looking for a dress!"

She laughed. "Women are supposed to be difficult when it comes to finding the perfect dress. Didn't you know that?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess I did."

They walked over to the counter to pay for the dress. The French woman kept thanking them for buying one of her dresses. Apparently, all the dresses in the shop were not from some famous designer, like Dior or Armani or any of those. This woman made all the dresses in her shop by hand. And she was proud of it.

"Oh, wow! You made all these dresses yourself? There must be hundreds of them in here!"

Charlotte exclaimed when the woman told them.

The woman smiled and started babbling in French, which Charlotte didn't understand, but she thanked her just the same for the dress when Derek began pulling her out of the shop.

"Let's grab a coffee to drink on the way back to the hotel. I'm sure once we get back, you'll want to get ready," Derek suggested.

"You're right. I'm sure it will take me awhile to get ready."

Derek found a small coffee vendor in the middle of the square and paid for two. He handed one to Charlotte as he stuck the change back in his pocket.

"I would have gotten those," Charlotte said as she watched him shove the change in his

pocket.

Derek shrugged it off. "My treat."

"Everything today has been your treat," Charlotte reminded him, sipping her latte.

"Consider it making up for every rotten thing I've ever done," Derek said.

They walked in companionable silence the rest of the way back to the hotel. Once they reached Charlotte's room, Derek handed the garment bag containing the dress over to Charlotte.

She beamed up at him as she stood in her open doorway. "Thank you for my dress, Derek. It means a lot to me."

He shrugged, trying not to look too pleased with himself. "My pleasure."

"And thank you for the wonderful afternoon. I had fun."

"So did I," he said, before leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll be back for you at about ten till eight."

Her cheeks blazed red again at his touch. "I'll be ready."

She shut her door and locked it before laying her dress down on the bed. She glanced at the clock again before giving a shrill squeal. She had less than two hours to get ready!

She grabbed fresh underthings and dashed into the bathroom to shower and wash her hair. It took forever to rinse out her hair when she washed it because it was so long and thick, courtesy of her mother. She tried to hurry nonetheless. If worst came to worst, she could always charm her hair clean, something she usually avoided, as it sometimes went wrong and she would end up with a giant frizz ball for hair.

She ran her razor over her legs to get rid of the stubble that accumulated overnight and rinsed off. She climbed out and dried off before haphazardly smoothing some lotion on.

She wrapped her towel around herself before grabbing her wand to dry her hair. Then she began the painstaking task of poking, prodding, and pinning it into place.

Twenty minutes later, she finally had her hair in an agreeable state. She had parted it off to one side and pulled it back, leaving her thick bangs free. Using her wand, she had painstakingly curled the mass into small banana curls, which she pinned into place using sparkly bobby pins. She combed her thick bangs off to the side of her head and pinned them into place using a few more of the sparkly bobby pins. With a mist of hairspray (besides the large amount of Sleekeazy's she used) she finished it all off and threw a light dusting of glitter over herself.

Then she turned her attention to her makeup. She put on a light layer of foundation to hide her blemishes then threw a little blush on. She used a light purple eyeshadow, then made her eyes pop by sliding a layer of dark blue eyeshadow through her creases. She used a little blue eyeliner and some blue mascara to finish off her eyes. She would put on her lip color once she finished getting dressed.

She left the bathroom, still clad in her towel, to get dressed. She pulled the dress carefully from the garment bag, admiring it for a minute before slinking out of her towel and sliding into the dress. She managed to get the zipper up by herself, but then she ran into a problem. She couldn't get the laces done up by herself.

She sighed. She really didn't want to have to ask one of the guys to help her with it. It was bad enough that Chase would have made sure that they all found out about her going out with Derek, in a dress no less.

She decided her safest bet would be to go to Callum. He, at least, wouldn't tease her to death when he saw her. She pulled on her black strappy heels and unlocked her door, peeking out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. She marched purposefully down to Callum's room and knocked sharply.

He pulled the door open seconds later. He smiled when he saw her.

"You look amazing," he offered, holding the door open so she could come in.

"Thanks. I have a favor to ask," she said hurriedly, stepping inside and shutting the door

behind her.

"Ask away."

"I got the zipper up, but my arms weren't made to bend the way I need them to so I can tie up the laces in the back," she said, looking pleadingly at him.

He laughed. "Turn around, I'll get them."

"You're a lifesaver, Callum. There's no way I could have asked any of the others to do this for me."

"It's a good thing you didn't. You should have heard them all talking about you and Derek when Chase let it out of the bag about what was going on."

Charlotte groaned. "Great. And I'm guessing they all still want to see what I look like in a dress."

Callum's chuckle was enough to assure her of it. "They want to know what the 'Girl Charlotte' looks like."

"Oh, joy."

"There you go," Callum said, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder to let her know he was finished tying her up.

She gave him a quick hug. "Thanks so much Callum. I guess I'll see you downstairs with the others in a little bit."

"So you will. And you still look amazing!" he called after her as she went back to her room.

She went back to the bathroom to put on a little lipstick and had just enough time to grab her shawl and throw it on before a knock on the door announced Derek's arrival.

She took a deep breath to calm herself before she pulled open the door. She was quite glad she did, for the sight in front of her made her lose her breath.

Derek was perfection in a black tuxedo. His bow tie was perfectly done and was the exact same shade of royal blue as Charlotte's dress. His shoes were polished and shiny in the light. For once, Derek had forgone the usual grooming routine with his hair and let it hang down in his eyes, something that Charlotte found very attractive. His eyes looked very blue tonight, and seemed to sparkle as they took in Charlotte.

He smiled at the look on Charlotte's face. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyes were wide, taking him all in.

"Wow, Derek. You look. . .I. . .there's. . .just, wow."

He chuckled. "That's about what I was going to say about you."

They both stood smiling at each other for a moment. Then Derek offered her his arm and they set off down the hallway toward the elevator.

"That dress looks even better on you than I imagined," Derek told her as they rode the elevator down to the lobby.

"Thank you," she said softly, wishing her cheeks would stop glowing red.

Just before the elevator reached the lobby, she broke the silence again.

"I'm warning you, the guys are all going to be out there, and they're gonna be ridiculous."

"Why? I think you look beautiful," Derek said, frowning slightly.

"Yes, well, thank you again, but that's not the point. They've only ever seen me looking like another one of them, you know, t-shirts, sweat pants, Quidditch robes. Total jock clothes.

They've never seen the 'Girl Charlotte.' And I'm going to pay for it."

The elevator doors slid open. Sure enough, the rest of the team was gathered a short ways away from the doors. And of course, they all had to turn around when they heard the little ding of the elevator, announcing their arrival.

Charlotte wasn't prepared for them all to stand there gawking at her, like a bunch of gormless baboons. Their mouths all hung open, their eyes wide and staring. Only Callum stood there looking like he always did, and he was smiling at her.

"Evening, boys," Derek said with a grin as he stepped out of the elevator, Charlotte still holding onto his arm.

They only managed halfhearted waves as the two walked past them. Charlotte managed a small smile at them all as Derek led her past them.

The large convention room had been transformed into a magnificent ballroom. There was a large wooden dance floor set up near the front of the room, where a small stage stood for the string quartet that was playing quietly as people arrived. There were numerous tables set up all around the dance floor, each with six place settings.

"They're serving us all dinner as well," Derek murmured to her as they moved through the people.

She nodded as she looked around the room. She tried to avoid catching eyes that she knew were upon her almost from the moment she walked in on Derek's arm.

Derek chose an empty table closer to the dance floor. He pulled out Charlotte's chair for her and helped her scoot closer to the table before sitting down beside her.

"So what do you think?" he asked her as he watched her look around the room.

"It's fantastic!" she said, looking at all the decorations and all the fancy outfits.

They were joined shortly by two other couples, whom Derek seemed to know from the convention. They were all delighted to meet Charlotte, and the conversation kept flowing all throughout a marvelous dinner of filet mignon and sauteed vegetables.

Charlotte didn't think she was that interesting, but apparently, these people seemed to think otherwise. It was nice to be engaged in a conversation with other people who wouldn't make Derek jealous. He was smiling and laughing and contributing to the conversation right along with her.

Once all the dishes had been cleared away by the numerous waiters around the room, they all sat listening to the quartet for awhile, letting their food settle before getting up to dance on the floor, which was slowly filling up.

A lively sort of waltz began playing. Derek stood up, offering Charlotte his hand.

"Care to dance?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"I'd love to," she said, taking his hand.

He led her out to the middle of the dance floor. He took up her hand in his own and placed his other around her waist, pulling her a little closer. He smiled down at her when he saw the look on her face. She was unsure of the steps, but gave in to the music and Derek's masterful leading.

Charlotte tried to keep her head clear, but it was next to impossible when she this close to Derek. She was experiencing that familiar heady feeling from last night when he had held her close. Though there was still space between their two bodies, Charlotte was starting to feel slightly intoxicated by his smell and his touch.

Derek was in a similar situation. He loved the feel of her hand in his and the feel of her waist beneath his other hand. Her smell was nearly as intoxicating, and her smile when she looked up to gaze into his eyes was downright hypnotizing.

They both didn't know how much more of each other they could take.

They kept dancing until well past eleven, when the quartet finally called it quits for the evening. During the evening, with all the dancing, they kept getting closer and closer to each other, until now, as the final notes of the quartet faded away, there was almost no space between them at all.

He didn't let go of her hand as he led the way back to their table to retrieve her shawl. Nor did he let go of her hand as they rode the elevator back up to their floor. He held on to her as they walked down the hallway.

They stopped outside her room.

"I had an amazing time tonight, Derek," she said quietly as she looked up into his blue eyes.

"So did I," he replied, moving a step closer.

"Derek?" she asked uncertainly.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, her smaller body pressed against his. Before she could open her mouth again, his mouth was on hers.

Wildfire spread from her head all the way down to her toes. Every limb tingled with surprise and pleasure. She wasn't just feeling heady anymore, she was drowning in him, every particle of his being. She was in way over her head, but she didn't want to surface any time soon.

She would just stay right where she was.


	15. Chapter 14: My Everything

**Disclaimer: **Getting a little tired of repeating myself here. . .

**A.N.** Eeeep! Oh gosh, guys, I'm so sorry I haven't updated in forever! Since I've been back to school, I've had maybe only two nights a week to work on my homework and all that garbage, since I've been working and all. But, I no longer have a job, meaning I should have a little more time to work on chapters now! So here we go! Chapter 14! Enjoy!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Charlotte had been home for a week now. That was equivalent to seven days of being able to sleep in, one hundred sixty-eight hours of enjoying the blissful tranquility of the cottage, and ten thousand eighty minutes of listening to Oliver grind his teeth at every mention of Derek's name.

She had to give her father credit where credit was due. He gave her an opportunity to get inside the house and put her bags in her room before blowing his stack. She had, of course, been hoping that her mother was able to work some of her magic on him to get him to be calm about the whole situation, but, like they say, you can't always get what you want.

"Did you have a good tour? How are the boys? How's-" Hermione spouted before being interrupted by Oliver.

"Derek? Derek Malfoy? Tha' no good, rotten, slimy-"

"Dad!" Belle interrupted.

Charlotte looked pleadingly at her father. "Dad, please, I know you don't really like the idea of me seeing someone while my career is taking off, but if you'd just look at it from my point of view-"

"HE'S BLOODY DEREK MALFOY! THERE IS NO SEEING IT FROM YER POINT OF VIEW, LASS!"

The women all cringed as Oliver erupted.

"Really, Oliver, was that necessary?" Hermione reprimanded.

"I bloody well better have a say in all this, lass! She's got a career to worry about and public perception and all the rest of the world breathin' down her neck! I think I know a wee bit about this meself!"

"Dad, I'm not saying you don't know about all that stuff, but please, just listen to me!" Charlotte begged, her cheeks reddening with frustration.

"Lass, yeh don' need some bloody wanker hangin' around yeh all the time! Yeh need to focus on yer career! The press will have a field day!"

"They've already had a field day," Charlotte reminded him, her patience running extremely thin.

"Which is why yeh don' need to be involved with bloody Derek Malfoy! What if yer image suffers?"

"The last time I checked, Derek had taken over that 'Most Eligible Bachelor' award that Gilderoy Lockhart had. I really don't think my image will suffer, Dad."

"That's not the point!" Oliver roared, actually stamping his foot with annoyance.

"Oliver," Hermione stepped in, "think about your logic for a moment. You were still playing Quidditch, and at the height of your career, when you met me. Did you listen to everyone else when they said you should forget me and focus on Quidditch?"

Oliver shook his head mutely.

"So why are you having such a hard time with Charlotte's decision to see Derek?"

"This is different! She's only been playin' for three months!"

"More like four, Dad," Charlotte piped up.

"Whatever! Yeh have all the time in the world to get into a relationship! Just not now!"

Charlotte crossed her arms stubbornly. "I won't stop seeing him."

"Uh oh," Belle muttered, watching as her sister and father squared off.

"Okay, you two, there's no need to get ugly," Hermione said sternly, watching as Oliver pulled himself to his full height in an attempt to pull off the "fatherly oppression" stance.

"Do yeh want to ruin yer career?" Oliver said in a low voice that throbbed with anger.

"I'm not going to ruin my career! I don't see what the big deal is! It's not like I have much time to spend with Derek anyway! I'm not going to lose my head and lose my focus! I know where to draw the line between the personal life and the public life! Why can't you just trust me to make my own decisions for once?" Charlotte cried, clenching her fists in anger.

Oliver looked slightly taken aback. Charlotte had never truly lost her cool with her parents before, and now, here she stood, her face red and her hair almost crackling with agitated electricity.

"It's not that I don' trust yeh, lass," Oliver started.

"Then let me make some of my own decisions for once!"

Oliver sighed with reluctance. "Fine. It's yer life to live. But be sensible, won' yeh?"

It was Charlotte's turn to look taken aback. She didn't expect him to cave so easily.

"I'm always sensible, Dad."

Oliver pulled her into a hug and ruffled her hair. "Yeh can' blame me for bein' worried and all, lass. I'm yer father, tha's what I'm here for."

Charlotte shook her head. "You can be just a tad overbearing sometimes, Dad. Just trust me to make my own decisions. You know I'm more intelligent than the average eighteen year old bimbo. I thought you had more faith in me!"

Oliver looked mildly alarmed. "Eighteen year old bimbo? Charlie, lass, is there somethin'-"

"Kidding, Dad! Kidding! Geez!"

* * *

A month had passed since Derek and Charlotte decided to "take things slow." In Derek's opinion, things were going ridiculously slow. Sure, he'd been invited to dinner and everything at least three times a week, meaning he did see a fair bit of Charlotte, but, they'd really had no "alone time," which was slightly infuriating. Derek had to worry over whether or not one of her family would walk in on them in a mildly compromising situation.

"Mildly compromising, right," Derek snorted as he paced his flat. "She won't even let me bloody snog her senseless."

Derek was more than a little frustrated. Charlotte had said she wanted to take things slow. Okay, he thought he could handle slow. But half the time, she wouldn't even let him kiss her good bye on the lips, often turning her head at the last second, so his kiss would land on her cheek, or her forehead. And when they were out in public, forget it. She wouldn't even let him so much as hold her hand.

"Argh!" Derek groaned in annoyance, thinking of how he didn't even get a proper kiss good bye last night when he left the cottage.

He flopped down on his couch, rubbing his face, trying to find some inner patience. He tried to rationalize things. Was it him? It couldn't be! He couldn't be that repulsive, seeing that he'd just been awarded the "Most Eligible Bachelor" award. _Someone_ had to be thinking he was a little desirable.

He knew he was probably being stupid. She was probably worried about public perception and all that. Oliver probably scared the pants off her and now she was afraid to so much as touch him. Which was true. The past few times he'd been to the cottage, after dinner, the two would walk out to the beach and watch the sun set. Then it would grow chilly with the onshore breeze, so Derek would pull Charlotte closer to him once she gave the slightest indication that she was cold. They'd lay back on the sand, Charlotte snuggled close, her head resting on his chest as they watched the stars come out for the night.

But now, she wouldn't even let him hold her close. She would sit ramrod straight on the sand, her arms around her knees. He knew from experience that she was going into her defensive position. She was very stubborn, and Derek knew once she sat like that, he wasn't going to get anywhere with her.

He sighed. There was something going on inside his favorite witch's head. It was killing him to put up with her coldness. It was killing him even more to know that whatever it was, she wasn't trusting him with her issues.

He was going to have to have a talk with her. There was no way that this could continue with her giving him the cold shoulder.

* * *

Charlotte felt bad. No, she didn't just feel bad. She felt like the worst person on the face of the earth. And of all people to make her feel this way, it had to be Derek.

What was the problem with her, anyway? She had about the nicest guy a girl could ever ask for (aside from the fact that she hated him for more than half her life), she had the greatest career in the world (sure, getting paid a cool million Galleons a year had its perks), and she had the most supportive family in the world.

So what was the problem?

Charlotte rubbed at her face tiredly as she stood under the steamy spray of the locker room shower. It had been another long, tiring practice. Even more wearing was the fact that the guys were still giving her a hard time about being with Derek, not to mention her slip up of actually dressing like a girl when she accompanied Derek to his ball while they were in Paris.

"Hey Wood! Where's Lover Boy?" Turner called out.

"Hey, are you guys going out tonight? 'Cuz if you want, you can meet up with us at the Three Broomsticks later!" Marc yelled.

"Really, Wood, what _do _you see in that guy?" Ace asked in an annoyed tone.

Charlotte shook her head, aggravated. She leaned her hands on the wall and let the water cascade down her head and into her face. She tried to find some patience to deal with them all when she emerged from the shower.

After a few more minutes, she could no longer hide in the showers, as all the hot water had run out. With a quick moment to collect herself, she wrapped a thick towel around herself and stepped out into the main lockers.

As she had been with the guys now for almost five months, and had gotten past her prudish ways a long time ago, it was no surprise to the rest of the team that she came out in just a towel. By then, she had established a separate area of the locker room for herself, and the guys all knew better than to invade her locker space. Aside from being threatened with castration and disembowelment (all Derek's ideas), they knew that Charlotte's father would know what happened without a single word breathed.

"Hey Charlie! You never answered us!" Turner called annoyingly over the lockers that separated them from her.

"Really, Turner, what's it to you?" Charlotte said as she tugged on a pair of jeans.

"Yeah, Turner, what's it to you?" Chase parroted.

"Hey Chase, was I talking to you?" Turner replied lamely.

"Turner, for future reference, stay out of my personal life," Charlotte called as she yanked her hoodie over her wet hair.

There was a chorus of laughter and catcalls as the guys all hooted at Turner, clearly pleased that Charlotte had put him in his place.

"Damn, Wood, what's up your ass today?" Turner asked sourly as she emerged from her space with her duffel bag over her shoulder.

"It's been a long day. Just leave me alone," she muttered as she headed for the door.

She made to push the door open when a hand was placed on her shoulder. She looked back to find Marc peering at her concernedly.

"Is everything all right, Charlie?"

"Fine, Marc. Just great," she sighed.

"You didn't seem too happy to talk about Derek. Is there something that we should know about? Because we can take care of it for-"

"No! I mean, well, kind of. But it's not what you think!" Charlotte added hastily, as Marc's eyes hardened instantly. "I just. . .I just need some time to think things over. It's more of what's wrong with me than what's wrong with Derek. I'm just. . .I can't. . .I'm just really struggling right now," she admitted in a whisper, looking down at her feet.

"Charlie, I'm sure if the relationship is getting to be too much to handle with Quidditch and all, Derek would understand," Marc tried to assure her.

"No! It's not too much! It's not! I just need some time to think and straighten things out in my head. I know I haven't been that great of a girlfriend to him lately, and I need to figure out why. I just need time to sort it all out, and for people to just leave me alone and let me do it."

Marc patted her on the shoulder. "I'll make sure Turner and Ace leave you alone. They've got no business pushing in to your love life."

Charlotte smiled up at the Frenchman. "Thanks, Marc."

Once she walked out of the lockers, Charlotte decided she'd walk a little bit before Apparating home. She pulled up her hood to shield her face from passersby who would recognize her. She just wanted to be left alone more than anything right now, but at the same time, she wished she could be close to Derek, even with it feeling so wrong.

She let her feet decide where she was going, and ended up in a nearby park. With the sun shining and the air just warm enough to not need a coat, it was probably one of the last nice days of fall before the weather turned rotten for the next six months. Charlotte sat down on a park bench and let her duffel bag slip off her shoulder. She rubbed at her face tiredly, hoping that the sun would give her some sort of insight into her less-than-ideal behavior toward Derek lately.

Charlotte had the nagging suspicion that Oliver had something to do with it. He made it perfectly clear that although he was allowing Charlotte to make her own decisions, he was in extreme disapproval with her decision to date Derek. And Charlotte, loving her father more than anything, didn't want to disappoint him in the least. Put two and two together and you have what would appear to be a failing relationship.

Charlotte groaned. It wasn't failing! Derek wouldn't give up on her that easily. Or would he? He could easily find a new girlfriend. After all, it wasn't as though they weren't queuing up to be with him. . .

She kneaded her forehead. If she kept thinking like that, she would probably go berserk. Derek still had enough patience to deal with her cold attitude, for the moment anyway. She didn't know how much longer he'd put up with it though. And that scared her more than anything.

"Charlotte Wood!"

She looked up.

_Click. _Flash.

"Why the long face, love?"

With an aggravated growl, Charlotte snatched up her duffel bag and spun on the spot, Disapparating and leaving those annoying paparazzi behind.

When she materialized again, she knew that was another part of the problem. Derek liked to go out when they were together. That was fine with Charlotte, except for the fact that those stupid buggers from the press seemed to know where she was going to be almost before she even knew herself. And as Oliver constantly warned her about doing stupid things in public, she had to refrain from looking too comfortable with Derek, to the point where she was afraid to touch him. Figure that into the equation and you have an extremely irritated Derek Malfoy on your hands.

Charlotte tried to shrug off her bad feelings as she walked into the cottage. Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table, her nose in a book as something on the stove simmered away, filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma.

"Hello, Charlie. How was practice?" Hermione greeted her, not taking her nose out of her book.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Turner was being his absolute most charming self, Marc was there to threaten him, all that good stuff. Whatever you're cooking smells good. What are we having?"

"I'm making a nice roast beef. But you're not eating it," Hermione replied, still not taking her nose out of her book.

Charlotte's eyebrows raised. "What do you mean, I'm not eating it? What am I eating, dirt?"

"Derek's taking you to dinner. He popped by about an hour ago to ask me to pass the message along to you. He'll pick you up at seven." Hermione finally tore her eyes away from her book to look at her oldest daughter, surprised to see a look on her face that appeared to be less than happy. "Something wrong, Charlie?"

Charlotte shook her head to clear it. "Nope, nothing's wrong."

Hermione frowned at her daughter. "You were never a good liar, Charlie."

Charlotte bit her lip. Would her mother understand?

"Charlotte, if a relationship and Quidditch is too much for you to handle, I'm sure that Derek would understand if you wanted to cool things off for awhile."

Charlotte sighed and sank down into the chair across the table from her mother. "It's not that, Mum."

Hermione set her book down and laid a hand on Charlotte's. "Then what is it, Charlie? You don't look so depressed and sad for no reason."

"That's just it, Mum. I can't really place a finger on it. I mean, I think I know what's bugging me, but I can't really define it. Part of it is that I don't want to disappoint Dad. I know he doesn't approve of me seeing Derek like I am, what with my career just taking off and all that. I know he's worried that I'll slip up or something and ruin my career before it even gets going. And part of it is sort of about Derek. I mean, I love that he wants to spend time together and everything, but he likes to take me out. In public. And that means-"

"It means you can't be yourself," Hermione finished wisely, nodding her head seriously.

"Exactly. And I hate that. I can't even begin to show the slightest bit of affection for him because I'm afraid it's going to be caught on camera and the whole world will know about it the next day. I know that I'm in the public eye all the time, whether I like it or not. And I know that I'm being played up as a role model for little girls all over the world, and I take that very seriously. I don't want to do something that will turn my image negative and start the gossip rags on destroying me."

"Have you told Derek this?" Hermione asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Well, no, I really haven't had an opp-"

"Charlotte, you need to tell him this. Before you push it too far and he gets angry."

"He's already angry," Charlotte mumbled, thinking of his aggravated look every time she denied him a kiss on the lips or a comforting hug.

"Then I suggest you fix things before it's too late," Hermione told her, getting up to check on the roast that was cooking on the stove.

"But how? I mean, I can't just tell him, 'Derek, I'm sorry that I'm a cold-hearted wench but I can't show you any sort of affection in public.'"

"Charlotte," Hermione started with a sigh, "just sit him down and explain things to him. Tell him that you don't want to damage your image, and that it's really in the best interests of both of you. Tell him that you would prefer that you didn't go out in public so much when you want to spend time together. Tell him you really do want things to work out and that you really do care about him, you just can't express it the way you would like. Sweetie, it's really not that difficult. I'm sure Derek's a rational man. He'll listen to you if he wants to stay with you."

Charlotte sighed and looked at the clock. She had an hour and a half to get ready for her date with Derek.

"I'm going to go get ready," she declared in a defeated tone.

Hermione watched Charlotte retreat down the hall with a furrowed brow. She gave a little shake of her head. Sometimes, when it came to the most obvious things, her daughter was sadly naive. Her problem was that she had learned to keep her emotions suppressed and hidden away for a long time, and she was afraid to show any affection toward anyone. Hermione hoped that Derek would bring Charlotte out of her shell, little by little. Hermione knew that this relationship was a good thing for Charlotte, and that she needed to break down her little ice barrier around her heart. Charlotte's relationships with men had always been slightly broken, ruined by her father so many years ago.

Hermione said a silent prayer that things would work out between the two young people. They needed each other, probably more than they both realized.

* * *

Derek paced his living room floor, whiling away the time until he Apparated off to Charlotte's to pick her up for dinner. He had already made up his mind; tonight he was going to find out what was wrong with Charlotte and whether or not he was wasting his time with her.

He silently prayed that he wasn't wasting his time at all. It had been his personal mission to try to win her over since their sixth year at Hogwarts. Now that he finally had her, he wasn't going to let her go. Regardless of what it took to keep her, he would fight for her. He'd fight for her, and keep fighting for her.

Even if she didn't want to be with him, he knew deep down, they both needed each other. Charlotte had such a profound effect on him; it was probably more than she'd ever know. When he was around her, it was like his world suddenly brightened, as cliched as it sounded. He'd grown up in a household where love was dished out sparingly. It had been a comfortable childhood, but what little love he did get left him craving for more. And with Charlotte being the sunny, bright and loving person that she was, Derek was left almost suffocating when she wasn't around. He lived off her personality. He fed from her caring nature.

As for Charlotte herself, Derek was of the opinion that it was in her best interest to have a male figure in her life, aside from Oliver. Derek knew that Charlotte's past was affecting her more than she let on. He had a sinking feeling that part of her withdrawal from him was because of Matt. Even though she had basically been raised by Oliver, there was still that rigid gap between the two that even Derek noticed when he was around them.

It all boiled down to one thing: Derek and Charlotte needed each other to stay sane. Derek would be there to help Charlotte regain her trust in men, and Charlotte would be there to help Derek put a little more love in his life.

Derek sighed as he glanced at the clock. It was time to go get Charlotte. He held on to what little hope he had as he Apparated to the cottage. Tonight was going to make or break them both.

* * *

Charlotte sat in front of the mirror of her dressing table, alternately stabbing pins into her unruly hair and glowering at her reflection. At this point, she really did not like herself for how she was behaving. It was no wonder Derek was irritated with her.

She stabbed another pin in place and began to wonder how the night would play out. She had a feeling that it wasn't going to end well. Try as she might to convince herself that she wouldn't press one too many of Derek's buttons and cause a scene, Charlotte knew that Derek would probably go off like a Filibuster firework at some point during the evening.

Belle was no longer at home to give Charlotte a pep talk as she got ready. Charlotte felt her heart twinge a bit at the feeling of loneliness that engulfed her in her sister's departure back to Hogwarts for the school year. Belle was usually so good at cheering Charlotte up even just a little, given the current mood she was in.

Charlotte squinted at her reflection in the mirror. Though her hair was finally cooperating, and her makeup was practically flawless, and she had on a nice shirt with one of her favorite sweater coats, Charlotte did not like what she saw. She was disgusted with herself.

She wished with all her might that she would find it in herself somewhere to really explain her behavior to Derek tonight. She owed it to him more than anything. She was grateful for what he was trying to do for her, and she was treating him like garbage in return.

"Charlie! Derek's here!" Hermione called down the hall.

With a disgusted noise at her reflection, Charlotte shoved herself away from the dressing table and slid her feet into her most comfortable pair of flats. With a final, fervent prayer to find some courage, Charlotte left her room to meet Derek in the kitchen.

He smiled at her when she walked in, though she couldn't help but notice that his smile did not extend fully to his eyes, like his smiles usually did. Her stomach slipped a few notches. That did not bid well for the rest of the evening.

Hermione and Oliver could sense the tension in the air once Charlotte finally appeared. Oliver cast a questioning glance at his wife, who returned his look with a slightly worried one of her own. They looked at Charlotte and Derek, who were now standing slightly awkwardly in each other's presence.

"Well, I hope you two have fun tonight!" Hermione said in a falsely cheery voice.

"Oh, we will. Thanks very much, Mrs. Wood," Derek replied cordially. "Don't worry, I'll have her back before long."

Charlotte cast her mother a slightly pleading look, but Hermione only shook her head fractionally and tried her best at an encouraging smile. Charlotte glanced at Oliver, who nodded his head ever so slightly, though his eyes looked worried.

"Don't wait up if I'm very long," Charlotte told them as she walked out the door after Derek.

"Have a good time, sweetie," Hermione said quietly.

Derek stood waiting for her a small distance from the door.

"You look nice tonight," he told her politely.

"Thanks. So do you," she said just as politely.

"Ready?" He offered her his arm.

She took it almost shyly, cursing herself for how awkwardly things were going. If the tension was this thick already, she was almost afraid of what it would be like later in the evening.

They arrived at the restaurant and were seated by the host. The two hadn't spoken to each other for several minutes, and Charlotte was now feeling extremely awkward, not to mention feeling horrible for being such a bad girlfriend.

"So how was practice today?" Derek asked after several more painfully silent minutes.

"It was fine. The usual," Charlotte replied, relieved that he finally spoke. "How was your day?"

He shrugged. "All right. Hung around the flat for awhile. Went to see my father. Popped into the office for a few minutes to take care of some paperwork. Stopped in at your place to see your parents. Now I'm here."

She nodded. "Sounds like a busy day."

Again, he shrugged. "Just the usual daily routine for me."

There were several more quiet, tense minutes. Charlotte wished she would have thought to invent a headache or some other sort of illness to get out of going to dinner. Then she realized how awful that was, and felt even more ashamed of herself. Now if she could just work up the guts to tell him what was really bugging her. . .

Miraculously, their food arrived then, so she was spared several minutes of talk by just taking a few bites of food. She'd ordered a sort of stir-fry with shrimp, while Derek ordered filet mignon. The atmosphere didn't seem quiet so tense now that they had their food and therefore didn't have to concentrate so much on each other.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw that some of the other restaurant patrons were being to gawk openly at the two. Her stomach gave an unpleasant twist. This was exactly what she didn't want to have happen every time they went out. Whether Derek noticed or not, he didn't let on. He just quietly ate his meal.

Charlotte took a sip of her wine and noticed her hand shook slightly. She gave a small sigh. This was getting ridiculous. She had to open her mouth, and she had to do it now.

Derek opened his first. "What's been going on with you lately, Charlie?"

Charlotte flinched a little. The disappointment, irritation, and hurt in his voice was much worse to bear than if he had yelled at her. She suddenly found that she didn't want to discuss things here at the restaurant. If Derek was going to go off on her, she would much rather prefer that it happen someplace a little less populated.

"Derek, can we. . .can we just talk about this later? After dinner?"

He gave another one of his nonchalant shrugs, though she saw his eyes flash with unmistakable anger.

And angry he was. Sure, he was slightly relieved that she wanted to talk about whatever it was that was bugging her, but that relief was quickly stifled by a surge of annoyance and anger at being kept in the dark for so long.

He took a few calming breaths. He was going to try to be the logical and rational Derek. He was going to try to be nice and hear her out completely once she finally started to talk. It was asking rather a lot of him to be so calm, but he would try, dammit.

Charlotte managed to choke down a little more of her stir-fry. There was now what seemed to be a large tennis ball lodged in her throat, and it made swallowing rather difficult. She couldn't believe that she told Derek they would talk about everything once they left the restaurant. She hoped that she could manage to talk around that damn tennis ball stuck in her throat.

At long last, Derek looked up to see that a large majority of the restaurant was trying to listen in on what little conversation he was having with Charlotte. He hoped they didn't pick up on the general lack of warmth between the two. That was all that they needed: a nice large headline splashed across the biggest rag of magical gossip.

He looked over at Charlotte to see that she was pushing the remnants of her meal around on her plate.

"Are you finished?" he asked her, taking a stab at politeness.

She set her fork down, nodding as she did so. "Can we get out of here, please?"

He stood up to help her pull her chair out and offered her his arm, out of habit. They both tried to plaster cheery smiles on their faces as they walked out of the restaurant, hoping to satisfy their admirers.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Let's just walk," she suggested, letting go of his arm and pulling on the jacket she had brought with her.

They walked in silence in the chilly air for awhile. Charlotte was working up her courage to say what she wanted to say, and at the same time, praying that what she was going to say would come out the right way.

"Derek, I'm not mad at you or anything," she blurted out.

He turned his head a fraction of an inch to look at her out of the corners of his eyes, but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"I've been. . .well, I can't really put into words how I. . .I've just been really confused lately," she decided on finally.

He arched an eyebrow, but again said nothing.

"I don't want you to think that I'm overwhelmed or anything. Because that's what everyone else thinks. They all think that being with you and playing pro Quidditch is too much."

She thought she heard him chuckle, but when she finally braved a glance at him, his face was impassive and smooth.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking recently, trying to figure out what my problem is. I think I've boiled it down to three things."

She waited to see if he would say something, but he didn't, so she went on.

"I think part of it is. . .well, my dad doesn't really. . ._like_ the idea of you and me together. He doesn't think that I should be jumping into a relationship this early in my career. He still thinks that I'm too new at all this to know what I'm doing, and that if I'm not careful, I could seriously damage what career I could have."

"That's rubbish," Derek finally snapped. "So just because _Daddy_ doesn't approve of the two of us together, then that makes you think we shouldn't be together? I thought you had a mind of your own, Charlie."

That stung Charlotte, deep. What courage she had was dwindling quickly.

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm not saying that at all. I think that he has some good points, but I've told him that I'm a big girl and that I can take care of myself. He still thinks that I'm a little girl and that I need someone to hold my hand every step of the way. I told him to let me make my own decisions, regardless of what he thinks of them."

"Oh, well, that explains why you've been treating me like I've got the bloody Plague," Derek spat bitterly.

"I'm ashamed of the way I've been acting, Derek, really, I am. But there's a reason that I haven't really come close to you in these past few weeks. Aside from Dad telling me that it's probably not a good idea to show raw affection for you in public, I'm terrified to even touch you when we're together."

Derek opened his mouth furiously, but she kept on.

"I'm not finished. I have no problem being with you, Derek. But I've been thrust out into the spotlight, and I have to watch what I do. You think I'm crazy for insisting I have to watch my behavior, but I don't want to be plastered onto the tabloids like a freak show and called a bloody whore or something else. I'm a role model now, Derek, and I have to make sure I live up to that when I'm out in public. That's why I haven't touched you when we're together. I can't risk some bloody reporter snapping a picture and altering it to come up with a story."

"But that doesn't explain why you won't touch me even when we aren't in public!" Derek blustered, his face reddening.

She sighed. "That's me being cowardly and unsure. Derek, if you haven't realized it by now, you are the first guy I've ever been with."

He turned his head so fast that his neck cricked. "What?"

She nodded miserably. "In case you haven't noticed, my past is haunting me in more ways than one at the moment. For a long time, I was unsure of how to act around guys. I even harbored this fear of Oliver for the longest time when I was younger. My real dad messed me up, big time. Even now, I'm still unsure of how to act around you. I guess I haven't gotten over my fear that if I say or do something wrong, you'll snap on me, like he did a long time ago."

"That's rubbish too. I'd never hurt you," Derek said roughly, before looking down at her again.

Her eyes were welling with tears, and her lip was quivering. Her shoulders were slumped in defeat, and she shook with a mixture of cold and fear of losing him. The sight of her made Derek's heart squeeze painfully.

"Derek, I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for how I've treated you," she sniffed. "I should have just told you how I was feeling from the beginning, instead of leaving you in the dark all this time. I know you're angry with me, and you have every right to be. I care about you so much more than you think, and now I think I've blown it all to hell. . ."

She gave up trying to speak. Her tears were going too fast by then for her to continue. She tried to wipe them away, trying to hold on to her last shred of dignity.

Derek gave in and pulled her into his side, holding her tightly against him. He kissed the top of her head.

"You make it impossible for me to stay pissed at you for too long, you know that?" he whispered.

She gave a little sob in response.

"I know you're sorry. You don't have to tell me, you don't have to prove it to me. I could never give up on you. That's impossible. I need you so much sometimes. You've been so amazing to me, you know that? You've made me see what I missed out on when I was growing up. I didn't know what it was to care for someone on a more profound level than what I was used to. You've showed me there's more to life than just shagging every girl that walks my way," he added wryly, hoping to get a laugh out of her.

She gave a watery sort of giggle as she continued to wipe away her tears.

He squeezed her tightly. "I won't give up on you. I swear. I'll keep fighting for you till the end."

She hugged him back, trying to make herself believe that this all wasn't a dream. A thought occurred to her then.

"Derek, just promise me something."

"Anything."

"Can we just do takeout and a movie from now on?"

He laughed. "Whatever makes you happy."

"It would. I don't like nosy people."

They laughed together as they continued down the darkened street, still holding on to each other, silently telling each other they'd never let go.

* * *

There you have it, guys! My longest chapter to date! Hope you liked it! 


	16. Chapter 15: Closer to You

**Disclaimer:** If I really owned all this, do you think I'd be writing them all in my own little fantasy world?

**A.N.** I've been trying really hard to keep up with the updates, guys, I really am. I'm hoping that it won't be hard to do, but I've got a major English paper coming up shortly, so we'll see. An incredibly huge thanks to my beta, **AnasellaEmm**, for putting up with my extended silences and for being my muse. Now, on with the story!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Derek spent most of the next month and a half carefully studying Charlotte. He wanted to know everything about her, learn all her little quirks that made her who she was, and get inside her head. He loved the way that she wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue between her teeth when she was reading something of particular interest to her. He learned she was an absolute organizational freak; all her books, CDs, and anything of that sort was ordered alphabetically according to author or band, and then by release date. He learned very early on that she was _not_ a morning person; he found out the hard way when he showed up one morning to take her out to breakfast. She proceeded to whack him about the head and face with her pillow, and he was chased from her room when she aimed her alarm clock at his head.

He loved everything about her. He loved her intelligence and how she would always tell him some random bit of information about something fascinating that he had never known before. He was mesmerized by just how involved she was when she was learning something new, whether it be Hermione teaching her how to cook, or Oliver showing her a new blocking technique. The intensity of her gaze as she watched carefully so as to not miss a single moment made him shake his head in wonder.

He fell more and more in love with her each day as she showed just how much love she had to give. Her family always came first, regardless of what was going on. If Derek showed up at the cottage to spend time with her, and Belle had just written to her, the letter back to Belle was her first priority. Of course, Derek always told Charlotte to send his wishes to Belle, whom he had grown rather fond of, despite not seeing her much.

He always felt a small pang in his heart whenever he watched Charlotte with her parents. It reminded him of just how starkly different they were raised. He longed for a closeness to his parents like Charlotte had with hers. Oftentimes, Derek would follow her home from practice, and her attention was focused solely on him until they set foot inside the door. Then she was chattering away to Hermione and Oliver about how her practice was and what her plans were for the night.

Charlotte always had a hug to give, regardless of who it was. Derek suspected that she would even give the guys on the team a hug, if she felt they needed it.

"Well, Turner just might be drawing the line," she laughed when Derek mentioned that to her jokingly one day.

Her laughter was music to his ears. There was nothing he loved more than hearing her laugh or seeing her smile. Though he had never gotten the whole story of her early childhood, he knew just by the small bits of information he had that she didn't do much smiling and laughing as a little girl. He felt like the happiest guy in the world, just knowing that she was comfortable enough with him to open up and laugh.

And then there was her kiss. His heart would begin to drum madly, and his brain would refuse to process what was going on around him. Then his lips would meet hers, and a tingly feeling would race from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Goose bumps would erupt on any exposed skin, and his head would feel light and airy, like he was experiencing a severe lack of oxygen. And when he pulled away to look at her, the adoration and love etched in every corner of her face made him want to melt into a puddle of goo.

Yes, in every respect, Derek Malfoy was acting very much like a man in love. His father would roll his eyes and remind him that a woman shouldn't affect him as Charlotte was, and that Malfoy men were supposed to act cold and indifferent. His mother would give a disgusted sniff at the mention of Charlotte's name and declare she would never accept her into the family should Derek do anything rash. But Derek didn't care what his mother thought. If Derek wanted to marry Charlotte, then he would do so without a second thought to his mother. Hell, if it meant that she wouldn't come to the wedding, then Derek would jump right on the opportunity as soon as it presented itself.

Derek didn't even want to begin to think of a life lived without Charlotte in it. He had gone nineteen years without the love and support that every person deserved, and now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go. He'd only been with Charlotte romantically for three months, but had been representing her for six already. Six months of being around the one person he secretly adored for nearly three years. Three years in which she detested him and pushed him as far away as she could possibly get him. Derek would have never guessed three years ago that he'd finally have his prayers answered.

Of course, three years ago, Derek would have never imagined giving up his playboy lifestyle. It was no small wonder that he'd always been known as "his father's son." It seemed that Derek had inherited his father's partying attitude, as well as his insatiable desire for good-looking women. Three years ago, it would have been impossible for Derek to settle down with just one girl. He'd been known as the Casanova of Hogwarts, the guy every girl wanted, but only a select few seemed to get, and it was usually because they had the "assets" other girls didn't. Derek seemed to have a new girl every other week. It was all a game to him; chase after her, get her, bed her, get bored with her, and ditch her. Then repeat it all over again.

But now that he had Charlotte, he looked back on those times and felt disgusted with himself. He'd been a bit of a horrible person back in those days, though he was never told to his face, unless it was by Charlotte. But then, it seemed that the girls he was with never minded that he ditched them; it seemed they were only in it for the chase as well. Just to add him as another notch to their bedposts, as he did with them.

Charlotte would never be another notch in his bedpost. He could never use and abuse her the way he did those other girls. He'd already done it to her once with that blonde bimbo while they were out touring the continent. He had seen her face, the crushed look in her eyes when she thought she might have been too late to tell him how she felt. Now that he had her, he was never letting go.

He wanted to spend forever with her.

* * *

Charlotte strolled into the lockers with a grin plastered on her face as she whistled along absentmindedly. She had not a care in the world at the moment. Then again, she really hadn't had a care in the world for almost a month and a half.

The guys all exchanged knowing looks as she walked past them to her own locker area. They all agreed, having this new, happy Charlotte was much better than the quiet, brooding Charlotte they had known previously. She was much more fun to be around, and took their teasing in stride. Instead of becoming offended by their words, she'd fire it right back to them, something they were quite unused to, but very eager to put up with.

"Someone's a little happy today," Callum commented as they walked out to the pitch.

Charlotte stretched her arms out above her head and smiled. "It's a good day."

Turner snorted. "Good day? What planet are you from? It's goddamn freezing out here, not to mention it's snowing."

Charlotte looked around in wonder at the snow that had started to fall. "But it's so pretty."

Turner shook his head and walked away, muttering to himself.

"Someone looks like they've got a date tonight," Marc teased as he walked alongside Charlotte.

"Derek's cooking for me tonight," Charlotte said happily.

Chase and Pietro did a double take. "He cooks?!"

Charlotte nodded. "Oh yes. From what he's told me, he's quite a good cook. But I guess I'll just have to wait and see."

"Hey, tell him if he's got nothing better to do, he could cook for us anytime," Ace threw in, clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. "I haven't had a home-cooked meal in I don't know when."

Charlotte turned around, smirking. "Maybe you should find yourself someone to settle down with then."

He made a face, choosing to ignore her comment. "Alright, gather round, gather round. Now I know you're all less than happy with me for making you practice in this cold weather."

"And snow," Turner grumbled.

"Yeah, that too. But we've never been playing better, and we've got two more games before a nice long break leading up to the World Cup. And as I'm sure you all know, if we win these last two games, we get to play for the Cup and nothing would make me happier."

They all exchanged gleeful looks, clearly wanting the Cup as much as their captain did.

"Right, so, let's get at it," Ace finished, jumping on his broom and taking to the air.

They flew for a good two hours before Ace finally let them hit the showers. Though it was a phenomenal practice, Charlotte was quite glad to get out of the air and the cold, as she was feeling like she just might be permanently frozen to her broomstick.

She managed to unseat herself from her broom and walked stiffly into the lockers, her teeth chattering and her fingers cold and stinging. She grabbed a fluffy towel from the stack near the showers and shivered her way over to one of the last shower heads, where she magicked her usual shower curtain into place with the usual charms on it. She twisted the handle all the way to the left, waiting for the water to warm up for a few seconds before stepping under the blissfully warm spray.

"Ace, if I don't regain feeling in my fingers, it's your ass!" Marc called out from somewhere to Charlotte's right.

"Suck it up, Marc! It builds character!" Ace retorted.

"I'll give you something to suck up," Marc muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Goose bumps erupted on Charlotte's skin as the hot water poured over her freezing skin. She rubbed at her arms vigorously, trying to return some of the warmth in them. Then she remembered she would be with Derek at his flat tonight, and, if anything, her goose bumps grew bigger.

She smiled as she turned around to let the hot spray warm her back. Now that she and Derek had cleared up their differences, they were almost inseparable. She saw him almost every day. If she didn't see him every day, her heart would ache in loss. She was pathetic, but she was in love.

Now that she had let her barriers down, she saw what love was really like. She shuddered to think what would have happened if she didn't come to her senses when she did. The very thought of not being with Derek was almost unimaginable.

There was so much more to him than she had ever thought. She loved nothing more than learning something new about him, which happened almost on a daily basis. Every time she found something else out, her love for him grew stronger and stronger. She couldn't understand how she could have ever hated him with every fiber of her being.

Nothing made her happier than to see his face light up when he saw her. He made her feel so special and so complete. She never thought it would be possible to feel so strongly for a man, especially after what her father had done to her so many years ago. But Derek exuded a warm and undying affection for her, and nothing made her feel safer than to be in his presence.

If she could get away with it, she'd love nothing more than to sit there and observe him for hours on end. He fascinated her to no end at all. He was a very particular person; things had to be done in a certain order, otherwise it wasn't a job well done. He was also very neat and tidy for a man. His flat was hardly ever dirty, and there were rarely any piles of dirty dishes sitting in the sink. His dishes all matched, as did his glasses and silverware. He had enough pots and pans to make any culinary artist swoon.

When Charlotte had asked him about the almost unnatural cleanliness and the masterful furnishing of the flat, he had looked at her with such an intense and knowing look, it made her blush.

"It's ready-made. Family ready," he had said.

Charlotte couldn't help but imagine a family with him after that. She supposed she was just being a sappy romantic, but deep down, she had no issue with saying she could easily spend the rest of her life with him. They fit together so perfectly, it was almost unnerving. Though they had only been dating for three months, they were already finishing each other's sentences and knew almost perfectly the different things that the other liked.

She knew that he always had to have three cubes of sugar in his coffee, four if it was tea. He hated extreme arrogance, which she had laughed at and pointed out that he himself was guilty of that more than once. He replied that he was working on that one, and that she just had to be patient with him. He had this deep, searching gaze that often unsettled her; it was as though he could see right to her soul.

He also had an uncanny ability to calm her down when she was upset. Charlotte was still working on trying to ignore what the tabloids wrote about her, but oftentimes, what they printed was so absurd that she couldn't help but getting worked up about it. Derek was always there to give her a shoulder rub and to talk her out of her anger.

She loved the cozy and safe feeling she had when she was in his arms. Whether it was when they were out for a walk and he had his arm around her shoulders, or when they stayed in and snuggled down on the couch to watch a movie, Charlotte had the sensation of being the other half to Derek's puzzle.

She smiled to herself as she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. She was looking forward to snuggling up to him tonight after he had cooked for her. He was being so incredibly sweet. He wouldn't let her do anything to help out tonight, that was his only stipulation before she agreed to it.

Charlotte gave a little shake of her head when the others started yelling at her to hurry up already, since the hot water was running out, and they still needed showers of their own.

"Sorry!" she called out as she hastily shut the water off and wrapped up in a fluffy white towel before emerging from her warm, curtain-enclosed shower.

Her feet turned to ice as she skittered across the tiled floor to her locker area. The weather was so unpredictable now that the season's were changing. It had been almost sixty degrees the other day, now, it was snowing and the floors were like ice.

Charlotte shivered into her favorite green sweat pants and yanked her overlarge sweatshirt over her head before waving her wand to dry her hair.

"Dammit, Wood! The hot water just ran out!" Ace growled as he stomped past her to the guys' locker area.

"Is it too late to say I'm sorry again?" she asked innocently as Marc lumbered past, goose bumps erupting on his skin.

"Just a suggestion, but if I were you, I'd get the hell out of here while I could," Callum said quietly as he walked back to his locker, keeping an eye on Ace and Turner's murderous looks toward Charlotte.

"Point taken. Thanks Callum. Bye guys!" she called as cheerfully as possible as she exited the lockers quickly.

She stood for a moment outside the building, watching the fluffy white flakes drift past her. She inhaled the cold, clear air and let the peace of the moment fill her. The snow reminded her that Christmas was just around the corner, and also reminded her she needed to talk to Derek about what their plans would be for the holiday.

With one last glance around the now-blanketed field, Charlotte took a breath and Apparated back to the cottage.

Charlotte looked around the yard in wonder once she had reappeared. The snow here was falling much faster than it was back at the field. There was already a good inch on the ground. This time though, she wasted no time in getting into the cottage, where it was nice and warm.

Almost as soon as the door was shut, Charlotte was tackled by a smaller version of herself.

"Belle!" she cried, dropping her duffel bag and wrapping her younger sister up into a hug.

"Ooooh! I've missed you so much!" Belle exclaimed as she hugged her sister back.

"I almost forgot you were coming back today! How was your trip? How's school going? Do I need to go beat anyone up for you?"

"The trip was good, school's just grand, and no, you don't have to beat anyone up for me, I handle all my problems myself," Belle ticked off, grinning all the while.

Charlotte let go and stood back to get a good look at Belle. She'd been gone for three months, but it seemed like so much longer since she had last seen her. Charlotte could have sworn she'd grown another inch, and her hair was looking as unruly as ever (courtesy of their mother's genes), but she was still the same Belle who had left three months previously.

"So how are you and Derek?" Belle asked coyly as she followed Charlotte down the hall to her room.

"We're so much better than we were. Remember my letters?" Charlotte asked.

Belle nodded, her brow creasing in mild worry. "I thought I was going to have to come back here and smack you a few times to get you to wake up!"

Charlotte laughed as she unloaded her dirty clothes from the duffel bag. "No, I managed to do that myself. I was so worried he would just up and leave me because I was being so horrible. But I managed to get over myself long enough to tell him what was really up. Instead of freaking out on me like I thought he would, he forgave me, just like that!"

Belle nodded in approval. "I knew he'd turn out alright in the end."

"I'm going to his flat tonight for dinner," Charlotte said in an offhand tone as she threw her dirty laundry across the hall and into the washer.

"Oh, really?" Belle questioned in a suggestive tone.

"Oh, Belle, seriously! You're twelve years old! You shouldn't even know that stuff yet!"

Belle raised an eyebrow. "Okay, just because you didn't know what a bloody blow-"

"Belle!" Charlotte cut her off quickly.

"So?" Belle asked maddeningly.

"So what?" Charlotte asked rather crossly, straightening her bed pillows to avoid looking at her sister.

"What's he like?"

"If you're asking me to spill as to whether or not I've crawled in the sack with him, then the answer is no," Charlotte sniffed.

Belle rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Don't give me that 'high morality' crap. You're head over heels for this guy. You've got to have done _something_."

Charlotte sank down on her bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. "He's a rather good kisser."

Belle crawled over to sit next to her sister's dangling legs, looking eager. "And?"

Charlotte's dreamy look vanished as she looked down into her sister's eager face. "So I've snogged him a few times. What of it?"

Belle squealed in delight and clapped her hands. "My sister's not a prude after all!"

"Hey!" Charlotte protested, smacking Belle in the face with the pillow she was clutching.

Belle rolled away on the floor, laughing nonetheless.

Hermione poked her head in the door just then. "I thought I heard you come in. What's all the fuss about?"

"Charlie's not a prude, Mum! It's a bloody miracle!" Belle exclaimed.

Charlotte chucked the pillow at Belle's head, only to have her duck and the pillow hit the wall. Belle smirked in response, to which Charlotte gave a low growl.

Hermione smiled knowingly at Charlotte. "I figured that's what Belle was squealing in delight over. But Charlotte, really, I do hope you're careful about-"

"Whoa! Okay, stop right there. We are not having this conversation. There's no need to because I'm not that stupid. I haven't done anything serious with Derek!"

"Done anythin' serious with Derek? What's goin' on?"

Oliver just happened to be walking down the hallway when he heard Charlotte speak.

"Out," Hermione said, pointing to the door.

"Did I jus' hear Charlotte say she's done somethin' serious with Derek?" Oliver's eyes narrowed. "I'm gonna go kill the lad."

"No, you're not, because I haven't done anything whatsoever with him!" Charlotte yelled indignantly, swelling up in anger as her father made to go kill her boyfriend.

"This better bloody well be the truth," Oliver grumbled as he allowed Hermione to shove him out of the room.

Hermione shut the door on his grumbling back and turned to face her daughter again.

"Thanks, Mum," Charlotte said rather sourly.

Hermione held her hands up in defense. "I'm just a concerned mother."

"Well, you don't have to be concerned, because like I said, I haven't done anything with him, and furthermore, I really don't plan to anytime in the near future."

Belle and Hermione both exchanged looks of significant meaning.

"All right, that's it! Both of you out! I have to get ready to go to Derek's!" Charlotte burst out, getting up and chivvying both of them toward the door.

"I have a message to deliver on behalf of Derek," Hermione said over her shoulder as her daughter shoved her toward the door.

"Oh yeah? And what's he got to say?"

"You don't have to go to any great lengths to make yourself look decent. He says to just come as you are."

Charlotte considered that. "Well, I'm at least putting something on that doesn't have holes in it."

And with that, both Hermione and Belle were pushed unceremoniously from Charlotte's room.

Belle and Hermione both looked at each other for a moment.

"Well, at least she's got her head on straight," Belle said with a shrug.

"Let's just hope it stays that way," Hermione replied.

* * *

Derek gave the spaghetti sauce another stir, inhaling deeply as the smell of garlic and spices overwhelmed him. He'd been working to perfect his sauce for the past two hours. He wanted his dinner for Charlotte to be flawless.

He leaned over the high counter to make sure he had the table set the way he wanted it. His best plates, the crystal wine glasses, and his highly polished silver cutlery were all laid out perfectly. He even pulled out the linen napkins for the occasion.

He grinned to himself as he pulled out another pot to put the water on to boil. He knew that Charlotte was impressed with the idea that he could cook, but once she saw just how much work he put into it, he knew he'd be in her good graces for awhile.

Once the water was put on to boil, he turned his attention back to the sauce. He picked up the spoon to give it a little taste.

"Derek, you are the man," he muttered to himself after putting the spoon back down.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

"Excellent," he murmured, wiping his hands on the dish towel before throwing it down to answer the door.

"Hello, love," he greeted Charlotte with a grin.

She grinned back before leaning in to give him a hug and a kiss.

"Whatever you're cooking smells delicious," Charlotte declared after inhaling deeply.

He shut the door behind her as she wandered toward the kitchen.

"Stay out of the kitchen," he warned her, still smiling.

She pretended to pout. "But you've probably been working at this for hours. Can't I help?"

He laughed at the look on her face. "Yes, I've been working on this for almost two hours. But no, you still aren't allowed to help."

"Can I at least watch?"

"Tell you what," Derek started, seeing that she wasn't giving up easily. "Bring the wine glasses in here from the table, and you can pour the wine."

Her face brightened. She grabbed the glasses from the table, admiring the intricate designs etched into them as she walked back around the counter.

"Derek, these are pretty glasses," Charlotte said as she set them down, still looking at the designs.

"Goblin-made, and nothing less than perfect, as my mother was the one to pick them out," he said with a chuckle.

Charlotte went to the refrigerator and took out the wine.

"Corkscrew?" she asked him.

He gave her an incredulous look. "Don't you have your wand?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but I want to do this the Muggle way."

He pulled out his wand and gave it a flick. A corkscrew materialized out of thin air. Charlotte caught it and gave him a look.

"I didn't have one on hand," he said with a laugh.

It took her a few minutes, but Charlotte finally got the cork out. She gave a little noise of satisfaction, as the cork was being ridiculously difficult and unwilling to part company with the bottle.

"Satisfied?" Derek asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Quite," she declared, pouring the wine into the glasses before handing one to Derek.

"Cheers," he said, clinking glasses with her.

She took a sip, then leaned over to look at the pots on the stove.

"Spaghetti? That's one of my favorites," she said happily.

"One of your favorites for my favorite," he said before leaning over to capture her lips in a kiss.

When he finally let her go, Charlotte felt slightly dizzy and punch drunk. Or maybe that was the wine starting to work. Regardless, Charlotte was filled with a giddy feeling of elation.

"Keep that up and I won't want to eat this spaghetti you've been slaving over for hours," Charlotte said, pretending to pout as she pushed herself up to sit on the counter next to the sink.

"Well, if you just want to skip to dessert. . ."

Charlotte laughed and swatted at his shoulder due to the look he was giving her.

"Nice try, pal. I'm so hungry right now, I could eat a hippogriff."

He frowned. "Well, this isn't exactly a hippogriff, but I think it'll taste a fair sight better than one."

Charlotte giggled at the crestfallen look on his face as he mused the idea of taking a hippogriff for dinner rather than his spaghetti. She grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him within leaning range so she could plant a kiss on his cheek.

"No need for the long face, love," she said teasingly.

Derek pretended to glare at her. "You just wait, Charlie Wood. You're gonna get it later."

Charlotte held a hand to her heart. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you," he growled. "Now get out of my way so I can drain this spaghetti."

Charlotte hopped off the counter and made room so he could rinse the spaghetti noodles.

"Go sit down," he ordered. "I'm serving you."

Charlotte started to protest, but Derek took advantage of her weakness to him and gave her another searing kiss, leaving her dumbfounded. He pushed her off to her seat and grabbed the plates from the table before returning to the stove to dish out the food.

Twenty minutes later, Charlotte set down her fork and leaned back in her chair, eyes closed as she savored the last bite of her meal.

"Dear Merlin, Derek, you can cook for me every night of the week, if you'd like," she declared, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip.

Something stirred behind Derek's eyes at that remark, but Charlotte missed it as she rolled her neck to stretch it.

"That good, huh?" he asked, a small smirk playing about his lips.

"Bloody fantastic," she groaned. "But I think I ate too much."

He laughed. "So does that mean no dessert?"

"Just which kind of dessert are you referring to, Derek?" Charlotte responded cheekily.

"I _did_ happen to make a lovely chocolate torte for dessert, but if you'd prefer, I can just haul you off to my-"

"I think I can make room for a chocolate torte," she cut him off, cheeks slightly pink, but smiling nonetheless.

"Do you want to try it now, or would you rather wait until we've started watching our movie?"

"Let's wait a little while. I don't think I can fit any more into my stomach," Charlotte said with a rueful laugh.

Once Derek had set the dishes to cleaning themselves, he and Charlotte settled down on the couch to watch their movie. Derek wrapped an arm around Charlotte and pulled her closer, while she managed to get comfortable in a half-lying position with her head against his chest and her arm draped across his stomach.

They were quiet for awhile, intent on the movie. Charlotte, however, had to fight to keep her eyelids open. The combination of a hard practice and a filling meal was taking its toll on her. She was so very comfortable, wedged between the back of the couch and Derek's side, and Derek's heart was beating a soft lullaby to her.

"You're not falling asleep on me, are you Charlie Wood?" Derek said softly, kissing the top of her head.

"No," she mumbled, shaking her head sleepily.

He gave a soft laugh. "Alright, if you say so."

Charlotte made more of an effort to keep her eyes open, but it wasn't working very well. Then she remembered that she wanted to talk to him about Christmas, and suddenly grew a little more awake.

"Derek?"

"Mmm?"

"Christmas is right around the corner."

"So it is."

"Like, in a week."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Do you have any plans?"

"Hmmm," he sighed, thinking.

"Because I was thinking," Charlotte went on, "we don't do anything on Christmas Eve, really. On Christmas Day, we go to the Weasleys for dinner in the early afternoon. But if you wanted to come over and join us on Christmas Eve, I'm sure my parents would love to have you."

"Other than having dinner at home on Christmas Day, I have nothing going on," Derek mused, then gave a shudder. "Dinner with my mother. Oh, the horrors."

Charlotte gave a sleepy giggle. "So is that a yes for Christmas Eve?"

"As long as your parents are willing to have me, then yes," Derek agreed. "But what about their eldest daughter? Would she want me?"

Charlotte scrunched her nose up, thinking. "Oh, I don't know. She's awfully picky about who can come to these family things. What sort of thing have you got to offer to help her make up her mind?"

"Perhaps this?" Derek asked, and tilted her face up to his so he could capture her lips with his.

Ah, bliss. Charlotte could process one thing: if this was the only thing she got from Derek for Christmas, she would be just about the luckiest damn girl on the planet.

"Mr. Malfoy, I think you've got yourself an invitation," Charlotte said breathlessly when he let her go.


	17. Chapter 16: Tragedy

**Disclaimer:** I refuse to say this again. Nope, not gonna say it. If you're really that stupid that you can't figure this out by now. . .

**A.N. **Yup, it's another update! I know, two updates within a week of each other? That hasn't happened in a long, long time. I was feeling particularly blessed with my ideas this week. Call it a fluke, I guess. Now, on with the story! And once again, thanks to my beta, **AnasellaEmm**.

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Christmas was over. The new year had arrived. Spring was starting to bloom all around the cottage. And Charlotte was in a state of never-ending nervousness.

No, it wasn't Derek. Things were going very well with Derek. If anything, Christmas had brought them even closer to each other (if that was possible). Oliver finally saw the light and accepted that Derek was a near-permanent fixture in their lives now, and had more or less given the two lovebirds his blessing.

The fact of the matter was, there were three games left in the Quidditch season. Three games left to decide who was going to the World Cup in August. Puddlemere needed to win two of those three games in order to secure their place in the Cup.

It didn't help matters that Ace was, to put it nicely, being a complete ass to everyone, even more so than usual. The practices he put them all through were bordering insanity. He kept them at it for hours at a time, often calling practices at noon, only to finally let them go when playing in the dark became unsafe, due to the inability of the Beaters to keep the Bludgers from unseating everyone.

Charlotte winced as she finally dismounted her broom for the first time in eight hours. She loved playing Quidditch more than anything, but this was madness. By the looks of the others' faces, she wasn't the only one thinking this was nuts.

"I'm pretty sure I can't feel my left-" Chase was muttering to Marc as they walked into the lockers.

"Chase, I'm pretty sure I don't need to hear that," Charlotte grumbled as she walked behind them.

"You get off easy, though, Charlie," Chase whined. "If he keeps this up, I'm pretty sure that when I finally land a woman, I'm not gonna be able to do any procreating!"

Marc and Charlotte laughed at the look on Chase's face. The very thought of not being able to "use his goods" was nearly killing him.

"Best hang it up now while you still have some feeling," Marc quipped.

Chase responded with a disgruntled "hmpf."

"Hey, great practice, you guys!" Ace called brightly as he ambled in from the pitch. Nearly everyone gave him a disgusted look in response.

"Now look, don't give me those looks, you know damn well I'm doing this out of the team's best interest. We've got the Falmouth Falcons in two days, and you all know how tough they are. If we can beat them, then we've got out spot in the Cup in the bag, because after that, we can trample the Wimbourne Wasps and annihilate the Cannons."

The others couldn't seem to disagree with this logic, and so it was with a much lighter mood that they all departed the field for the evening.

Charlotte arrived home to find Derek there, unsurprisingly. He and Oliver were having a spirited discussion on Puddlemere's odds of winning the next three games in front of the fireplace in the living room, while Hermione was reading a book with a small smirk on her lips, listening to the men banter back and forth.

"They've been playing well all year. I think they've got this in the bag," Derek said, taking a sip of the butterbeer in his hand.

"As long as Ace keeps a level head on his shoulders, I dinna see why they willna make it to the Cup," Oliver agreed.

"Yeah, and as long as he doesn't fly us all to death before that, I think we'll be okay," Charlotte piped up, dropping her duffel bag on the floor and grabbing a butterbeer before joining them.

"I was starting to wonder if he was going to keep you all at it until the sun rose again," Hermione remarked, lifting her eyes from her book.

Charlotte made a disgruntled noise and dropped heavily onto the couch, lifting her aching legs to rest stretched out in front of her.

"It'll all be worth the torture once you've won the Cup, Charlie," Derek tried to console.

She took a gulp of her butterbeer before laying her head back to rest on the arm of the couch. "Yeah, if I even make it to the Cup. If Ace keeps up with these ridiculous nine hour practices, I'm sure my legs are gonna fall off. It's unnatural to be in the air that long."

"Jus' three more games to go, lass," Oliver said as a way of reassurance.

"Did you have nine hour long practices, Dad?"

"Well, I dinna really recall-"

"Exactly. I'll just be glad when these three games are over. Then it's a month off to rest up, then a month back to practice before the Cup."

"Which you'll win, hands down," Derek said confidently.

"That's if we can get past the Falcons the day after tomorrow," Charlotte reminded him. "They're tough, and from what I remember just from keeping an eye on the news, they play dirty."

Oliver scowled. "Tha' team's nothing but trouble. I didna realize yeh hadn't played that lot yet. Jus' keep yer wits about yeh, lass, and yer eyes peeled. They'll be lookin' to unseat someone before the game's done."

Charlotte grimaced before taking another swig from her bottle. "Thanks for the confidence, Dad. I appreciate it."

Oliver and Derek both realized what a foul mood Charlotte was in, so they both kept silent for a few minutes.

Silence was the last thing to help Charlotte out at the moment. In those few minutes of silence, she was half asleep, her butterbeer bottle tipping precariously in her slackened grip. She jerked herself upright when a hand on her shoulder startled her.

"Go to bed," Derek said quietly, the backs of his fingers caressing her cheek.

Charlotte mumbled something that sounded incoherent even to herself and stumbled up from the couch. Derek took her bottle before she dropped it completely and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll leave you in peace for the night. Just go to bed," he ordered her, rubbing her arm before walking into the kitchen to leave.

"Thanks for the evening!" he called over his shoulder, waving as he walked out the door.

Oliver actually smiled at Derek's retreating back. When the door shut behind him, Oliver turned to Charlotte, who was just about half asleep on her feet.

"The bloke's growin' on me, lass. Didna I tell yeh? Jus' give me some time? Eh?"

Charlotte rubbed a sleepy hand across her face. "Hmm. Yeah, sure, Dad."

"Go to bed!" Hermione and Oliver barked at the same time.

Charlotte didn't need twice telling. She would need all the available strength she could get for the upcoming game, especially with the prospect of facing a team that played dirty, right to the core.

* * *

It was time. Charlotte's breathing was labored. Her face was a pasty grey. She could feel small beads of sweat forming on the back of her neck. Goose bumps rose on her arms when she heard the crowd erupt in screams following the commentator's oratory.

"This is it, mates," Ace breathed.

Through her panic, Charlotte could tell that even Ace was feeling the pressure. Looking around at the rest of her boys, she noticed they all were looking rather panicky. Turner, she was pleased to see, looked rather peaky and didn't seem to have his usual arrogant posture. Pietro, normally so off the walls and chipper, was rather subdued, his left eye twitching every so often as she watched him.

"AND NOW, I GIVE YOU, PUDDLEMERE UNITED!"

Ace gave a little jump as he heard his name called. He mounted his broom and took off out the open door, the crowd going wild once they caught sight of him.

One by one, Charlotte and her mates flew out into the summer-like weather. The sun was bright, almost too bright, which brought Charlotte into sharper focus of the game. She'd have to pay special attention to what was going on around her today.

"Captains, shake hands," the ref ordered.

Ace stepped forward to grasp the hand of the Falcon's captain, Tarlington. He was a brutal looking man, very bulky and meancing. His muscles put even Marc's to shame.

"Be on your guard, Charlie," Callum muttered to her out of the side of his mouth. "They don't have to be in the air to look brutal."

Charlotte looked at the rest of the team, situated behind their captain. Callum was right. Charlotte's counterpart on the Falcon's team was a right troll. Charlotte thought she was rather tall, for a girl, being nearly six foot, but this man was massive. He looked to be bordering six foot eleven inches, with biceps the size of hams. When he caught Charlotte's eye, his leer made her want to cringe.

"Mount your brooms!"

Time slowed down for Charlotte in that moment, as it usually did right before the ref blew his whistle to start the game. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, catching in her eyebrow.

The whistled screeched. Fourteen players rose in the air, almost as one.

Charlotte streaked off toward her goal posts, listening to see who had gained possession of the Quaffle first.

"AND IT'S PUDDLEMERE'S HARRISON IN POSSESSION! GREAT TALENT FOR A GREAT TEAM! AND THERE HE GOES, LOOK AT HIM WEAVE THROUGH THE FALCONS' BEATERS REESE AND PAULSON! WILL HE BE ABLE TO GET PAST KEEPER BORLEY'S DEFENSE?"

Charlotte squinted in the bright sunlight to watch Ace loop the opposing Beaters and come up under Keeper Borley, trying to catch him unawares.

"Go Ace, go," she muttered, clenching her broom tightly.

By some miracle, Ace managed to score, getting past the trollish Borley. Charlotte saw Borley crack his knuckles menacingly as Ace flew away, punching the air in victory.

"AND ITS TEN-NIL, PUDDLEMERE! EXCELLENT GOAL BY ACE HARRISON! FALCONS IN POSSESSION NOW, AS CHASER MASON SPEEDS UP THE FIELD WITH THE QUAFFLE!"

Charlotte could hear her parents and Derek screaming for her somewhere in the stands. She dared not take her eyes from Mason as he came speeding toward her, concentration etched into his face, Quaffle under arm.

Charlotte's hands loosened their grip on her broom inside her Keeper's gloves, a present from Derek for Christmas. She wasn't going to let this sloth get past her.

Mason feinted to the right, but Charlotte was ready for him. Quick as a wink, she snatched the Quaffle from the air and tossed it back into play, Pietro taking hold of it and soaring away, his grin evident to her even in the blinding sun.

Mason gave her a menacing glare and pointed his finger at her threateningly before speeding away, leaving Charlotte slightly unnerved.

To distract her from her unease, she took a moment to glance up into the stands, searching for Derek and her parents. She spotted them up near the top and waved. The three waved back furiously, grinning broadly and giving her the thumbs up sign.

"AND PUDDLEMERE'S GONZALEZ SLIPS ANOTHER ONE PAST KEEPER BORLEY! TWENTY TO ZERO, PUDDLEMERE STILL IN THE LEAD!"

Charlotte punched the air in elation before getting on her guard again, as this time, Chaser Walker came pelting at her. He tried a different tactic and tried coming at her from above, trying to dive bomb her to get her to move out of the way, leaving him room to score.

It didn't work, and Charlotte saved their second attempt and threw it to Chase, who dove off through the confusing tangle of Chasers and Beaters to try and score again.

"Your ass is mine, Wood!" Walker growled at her before flying off.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, but after he flew off, she couldn't help but shudder. There was something about the men of the Falmouth Falcons. They were all creepy in some way, and the looks and comments were starting to make her feel very violated.

A half hour more of play left the game at 160-150, Puddlemere in the lead. The crowd was going crazy; Charlotte was really living up to Oliver's legacy and handling the difficult Falcons without much trouble.

Tarlington came pelting at Charlotte from the side, hoping to catch her off-guard to tie the game. Charlotte kept back, making him think she was starting to wear out. He came within three feet of her before lifting to throw. It barely left his fingertips, though. She swivelled around at the last second and swatted it away with her broom.

Up in the stands, Oliver, Hermione and Derek were going crazy. Charlotte was playing so well, they were all fit to burst with pride.

"Tha's my girl!" Oliver kept yelling.

They were all jumping up and down like maniacs every time she made a particularly difficult save. She looked like she was having a blast up there, guarding her goals like her life depended on it.

Even Hermione, who had never been much of a Quidditch buff, was squealing like a little girl and clutching at both Derek and Oliver's arms when the Quaffle came to Charlotte's end.

Charlotte laughed at the look on Tarlington's face when she swatted the Quaffle away. He looked like he was ready to kill someone.

Out in the fray of things, Marc lowered his bat. He searched furiously through the tangle of players, trying to find where those damn Beaters had gone to. Five feet away, Turner was looking around too.

Marc did an about face to look back near Charlotte. His heart froze in an instant.

The Beaters, Reese and Paulson, were directly behind Charlotte, bats raised, manic grins on their faces. As one, they swung out to connect with the two black Bludgers.

"CHARLIE!" Marc bellowed, his eyes wide with shock.

Tarlington flew away with a superior smirk on his face. Charlotte looked after him, looking puzzled.

WHAM.

Charlotte's head smacked into her broom handle as the two Bludgers hit her, one in the back of the skull, the other right between her shoulder blades. She slipped from her broom, unconscious, never having the chance to defend herself.

Up in the stands, Hermione, Oliver and Derek froze. Derek's mouth was wide with a silent shout, Hermione's arms frozen to her head, clutching it in horror. Oliver's arm was stretched out in front of him, as though he could catch his falling daughter.

Marc forgot all about keeping the Bludgers from killing his other mates. His bat slipped from his hands as he dove past Turner, who was frozen in place, watching Charlotte fall unimpeded to the ground.

"Come on, come on!" Marc urged his broom.

He never made it to her in time. With a _thud_ that echoed around the field, Charlotte hit the ground.

The crowd erupted once more; this time in outrage and shock. The ref blew his whistle several times, to no avail, once the rest of Puddlemere figured out what was going on and started launching themselves at the offending Falcons.

On the grass of the field, Marc landed next to Charlotte and chucked his broom away, falling to his knees beside his fallen Keeper.

"Charlie, come on, please, wake up, come on, mon cheri, please," he kept muttered, tapping her face, lifting her arm, trying to get some reaction out of her.

She didn't move.

Derek came to his senses up in the stands, snapping his mouth shut and squeezing his eyes tight for a moment, trying to keep the horror of what he saw from spreading through his body.

"Come on," he muttered, grabbing both Hermione and Oliver by the arms and leading them through the chaos of the stands.

The ref managed to get both teams back to the ground, casting a shield between them with his wand and telling the Falcons to clear off the field.

Ace was livid. The unprovoked attack on his Keeper had him seeing red. He turned to look across the field, where Charlotte had fallen. The rest of the team was running over to where Marc sat on his knees, trying to get her to wake up. Ace dragged himself over to the others, watching as several mediwizards came sprinting into view.

"Out of the way, excuse me, I'm a mediwizard," one short bloke was saying, elbowing the rest of the team out of the way.

They moved back, giving the mediwizards room to work. One of them lifted his wand and cast a muttered charm. Charlotte's body was encased in a blue light, then, after a moment, her head, arms, legs, and what looked like her spine began to glow a bright red.

"She needs St. Mungo's, fast," the short bloke's mate muttered.

Derek, Oliver and Hermione came to a halt beside Callum, panting furiously. Hermione gave a cry of despair when she saw her daughter lying there, parts of her body glowing bright red. From her Healer's training years ago, Hermione knew what bright red meant. It meant something was broken. And with nearly half of Charlotte's body glowing bright red, she felt her reality crumbling down around her.

"No!" she cried, sinking to her knees.

Derek looked down at Hermione and back at Charlotte, catching on. His heart racing faster, he turned to the mediwizards who were kneeling next to Charlotte.

"What are you waiting for?! She needs St. Mungo's, you idiots!" he yelled.

The two mediwizards turned to look up at him, still standing between Oliver and Hermione. Then they looked over at Oliver and then Hermione, who was sobbing unrestrainedly on the ground.

"With your permission, Mr. and Mrs. Wood, we'd like to Apparate your daughter to St. Mungo's. We're not sure if Apparating her there will cause any more damage, but in any case, if we don't get her there soon, the results could be disastrous," the short bloke said.

Oliver nodded dumbly, seeming to have lost his ability to speak as he continued to look down at his daughter's broken body.

Without another word, the two mediwizards conjured bandages and splints from thin air and wrapped Charlotte up in them. The short bloke conjured a stretcher and the two lifted Charlotte carefully onto it.

"Once you get to St. Mungo's, I'm sure someone will be able to fill you in," the short bloke's companion told them all.

With a _pop_, they Disapparated, leaving the team, Derek, Oliver, and Hermione in shocked silence, everyone looking around at each other without knowing what to say.

Derek became dimly aware that the crowd was still yelling and jeering behind him. The commentator was still going on about what a show of cowardly sportsmanship the attack was.

With a great effort, Derek pulled himself together and rubbed his face before turning to Oliver.

"We should get to St. Mungo's."

It looked to Derek as though Oliver was pulling himself back to reality from a very long way off. Derek knew what it was; Oliver was reliving his injury that ended his Quidditch career. The two incidents were almost eerily similar; both Oliver and Charlotte had been hit from behind by vengeful Beaters of the opposing team.

Oliver bent down to put a hand on the sobbing Hermione's shoulder. She seized hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly in her own.

"We should go to St. Mungo's, Hermione. Yer gonna want to be there when she wakes, I expect."

Hermione nodded, hiccuping through her sobs, and allowed Oliver to pull her up from the ground. He wrapped a supporting arm around her shoulder before nodding to Derek and Apparating to the wizarding hospital.

"You mates coming too?" Derek asked the team.

There was a murmured agreement among them.

"I'll be there as soon as I go beat the magic out of Tarlington," Ace growled, actually making to move to the lockers on the other side of the field, but Marc and Turner held him back.

"It's not gonna do you any good to go beat the crap out of him and get yourself suspended for the rest of the season," Chase said. "Then we'd be short a Chaser and a Keeper, and then what would we do? You can bet we'd lose our bid for the Cup then."

"Who cares about the Cup now? We've just watched our Keeper get flattened by the opposing team!" Pietro declared, looking upset.

"But Charlie wouldn't want us to be upset! Guys, it's a risk we take every time we take to the air. And besides, once we get to St. Mungo's and find out how she's doing, there's not a doubt in my mind that she'll recover nicely and we'll have her back in the air just in time for the Cup!" Turner spoke up.

Instead of looking like they wanted to hit Turner, which usually happened every time he opened his mouth, the rest of the team looked at him as though what he said made sense.

"Turner's right, for once. We just need to stay positive. And in the meantime, we should be there for Charlotte's parents. You guys can't say that Oliver Wood looked a little shaken," Callum said, looking around at all of them.

"It's because his accident was almost the exact same as what happened to Charlotte," Derek told them. "He was hit from behind after a save by a vengeful Beater. Except he didn't get to return to the air."

They were quiet for a moment, digesting the news. Most of them had been really young, practically the same age as Charlotte had been when Oliver was injured, so they never really knew the details.

"Well, let's go," Marc said, finally speaking for the first time since he'd landed next to Charlotte's injured body.

They all spun on the spot, hoping with every fiber of their being that Charlotte was going to be okay.

* * *

Derek jerked awake when he felt a hand smoothing the hair away from his face. He blinked rapidly, and Hermione's face came into focus.

"You should go home, take a shower, and get a decent night's sleep," she said softly, trying to smile.

Derek sighed and stretched before looking at his watch. It was shortly after eleven at night, the fifth night he'd been there. He glanced over at the unmoving Charlotte, lying still beneath the blankets covering her.

Five days. Five days in which he, Hermione and Oliver had remained at her bedside, waiting for something, anything to happen that would make Charlotte wake up. So far, there had been nothing. No change. The Healers had placed her into an enchanted sleep as soon as she had arrived, but that was supposed to have worn off after the first day. If she was still unconscious, it was because of her injuries.

None of the three had left her side for very long. If they had, it was to grab a quick bite to eat, use the bathroom, or look for a Healer to answer their questions. No one left her alone, not even for a second. No one wanted to leave her alone, just in case she should wake up.

"Really, Derek, it's okay. Go home, get some rest. You can come back first thing in the morning," Hermione repeated. "If something should change in the night, you'll be the first to know. She'll need you once she wakes up. What good will you be if you're sitting here snoring?"

Derek managed a small smile in spite of the situation. "You're right. I imagine I don't smell very good, much less look so good either. I'll agree to it on one condition though."

"What's that?"

"That you and Mr. Wood go home tomorrow and get a little rest yourselves once I return. I'm not saying the whole day," Derek added, seeing Hermione open her mouth to protest. "Just go home, shower, take a nap in your own bed, then come back. I'll be here with her, and like you said, if anything should change, you'd be the first to know."

"The lad's right, Hermione," Oliver spoke up, having woken from a doze in his chair on the other side of the bed. "Wha' good would we be if she happened to wake up and we were sound asleep?"

Hermione sighed, then nodded. "Okay, Derek. You've got your condition. Now go home and get some sleep. We'll see you first thing in the morning."

Derek gave Hermione a brief hug and shook Oliver's hand before turning to place a soft kiss on Charlotte's forehead. With one last glance behind him as he paused at the door, Derek walked out of the room for the first time in twelve hours.

Out in the lobby, he nearly walked right into Marc, who looked as though he had just Apparated there.

"Change?" Marc asked.

Derek shook his head. "What are you doing here so late?"

Marc shrugged. "She was on my mind all day. The boys were all out at the pub, but I couldn't stand the false cheeriness anymore. Thought I'd drop in to see how things were. Where are you off to?"

"Her mother talked me into going home to get some sleep. I'll be back in the morning."

Marc nodded. "I'll probably be back tomorrow. I'll see you then."

Derek grasped Marc's shoulder briefly before Apparating home.

Derek felt exhausted as he stumbled through his flat, alternately turning on lights and making sure his door was still locked. He paused when he saw the piece of folded parchment on his side table next to the couch.

He picked it up and saw his name on it. Puzzled, he slid his finger under the seal and opened it. It was a brief note from his father.

_Derek-_

_Heard the news about Charlotte. Despite your mother's feelings about her, I actually feel bad about what happened to her. I thought it would be nice to send her some flowers. I didn't put our name to it though, I put yours to it instead. Hope that's all right. Hang in there, son. She'll be okay, if she's anything like her mother was._

_Father_

Derek crumpled the letter as soon as he finished. That was a first for his father; he'd never shown compassion or remorse for anything that had ever happened to someone he knew. He'd have to remember to thank his father once he saw him again.

He slouched off to the bathroom, where he took a blasting hot shower and pulled his pajamas on, half asleep. He stumbled to his bed and managed to jerk the covers up before falling deeply asleep, his dreams plagued by dirty Quidditch matches and girlfriends falling over fifty feet through the air before hitting the ground.


	18. Chapter 17: Everything's Not Lost

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Obviously.

**A.N. **How could I do that to Charlotte? Yes, none of you were expecting that, were you? Does that make me an evil writer? Mmmm, perhaps, perhaps. I'd only be truly evil though if I left her in the coma for the rest of her life. And with that, on goes the story. Special thanks, as always, goes to my beta, **AnasellaEmm.**

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Fuck mates, is she ever gonna wake up?"

"Hell if I know. How long's it been now?"

"Two weeks."

"She's gotta wake up. We need her, dammit."

"Don't get your knickers in a knot, Ace. We can get past the Cannons and the Wasps with our reserve."

"He's rubbish."

"Doesn't have Charlotte's style."

"But the Cannons are a pushover, and as long as we keep scoring against the Wasps, we've got that game won too."

"That's not the point. We need Wood back."

"Bugger, can't we just give Warren a chance?"

"We don't have a choice. Even if Wood does wake up soon, there's no way they'll clear her to play. We play the Wasps in three days. And then the Cannons a week after that."

"Even if she does wake up soon, I think it'd be better if we just let her have a rest until we start practicing for the Cup."

They all nodded in agreement, then turned quickly to look at Charlotte, who, up until that moment, had been lying silently under her blankets in her room at St. Mungo's. She had moved her head to the side and made a little noise.

Marc touched her arm, looking for another movement. There was nothing.

"Damn. Nothing," he said, disappointed.

"Hermione and Oliver said she's been moving randomly for the past two days. The Healer said it could be that she's starting to come out of her coma. They say it's a good sign," Callum explained.

The team all sighed, shaking their heads. All they wanted was for their Keeper to come back. They had a decent reserve practicing in her place, but it wasn't the same. Warren didn't move with the same grace and skill that Charlotte had. He was still jerky and inconsistent, a "newbie" as it were.

Hermione and Oliver returned to the room just then, carrying cups of tea on a tray for them all. There was a murmur of thanks from the team as they all took their cups, then resumed slouching against the walls or up against the window, glancing around at each other and taking turns watching Charlotte for any signs of more movement.

"Anything while we were gone, lads?" Oliver asked hopefully.

"She turned her head to the side and made a little noise, but otherwise nothing," Marc said, discouraged.

"Don't be so down, Marc. Healer Dobbs said her random movements were a good thing," Hermione said, her voice a bit brighter than it had been in the past two weeks.

"We just want her back," Ace said quietly, his eyes roving over Charlotte's face.

"Dinna get so down, lad," Oliver said, reaching out to pat Ace on the shoulder. "Yer gonna get her back in no time."

"She won't be playing for awhile, mind you," Hermione warned.

"Even if she can't play for awhile, it will be nice to have her back," Pietro declared.

"Hey, look!" Chase nearly shouted excitedly, pointing.

Charlotte's right hand flexed.

They all grew silent, watching for more movement.

Charlotte's leg twitched. They all exchanged gleeful looks.

She made a tiny sound, almost like a cry of pain. They all grabbed onto someone's arm, hardly daring to hope.

Charlotte's arm definitely did more than twitch when it moved again. Hermione and Oliver exchanged disbelieving looks, hardly wanting to believe it.

"Mum?"

Hermione looked at Oliver, thinking she was imagining it. He nodded to her, and they both rushed to Charlotte's side, grabbing her hands.

"Charlie girl? It's Mum, I'm here," Hermione whispered, her hands shaking, tears threatening again.

"Mum?" Charlotte's eyelids fluttered. "What's happened?"

Hermione let out a half laugh, half sob. She looked around at the team, who looked excited, but understood. They filed out of the room, leaving the family in peace.

"Yeh were hit with some Bludgers, lass, at the last game," Oliver said in a shaky voice. "They ganged up on yeh."

Charlotte squinted at her parents, whose faces were pale and exhausted, but smiling nonetheless.

"Bastards," she sighed, closing her eyes against the pain in her shoulders as she tried to move around.

"Don't move, Charlie. You were hurt pretty badly," Hermione said, touching her daughter's shoulder gently.

"How long?" Charlotte asked, her eyes still closed.

"Two weeks," Oliver answered softly, his thumb rubbing her arm soothingly.

She groaned softly. "Damn."

A swarm of Healers and nurses came bustling in then. For the next half hour, the little room was near chaos as the various specialists assessed Charlotte's condition and made adjustments to their treatments based on the answers Charlotte gave them to their questions.

In that time, Oliver slipped from the room to hurry up to the tea room, where a dozen owls of various sizes sat waiting for the patients' families to use. He quickly scrawled a note on some parchment and attached it to the leg of a bored looking barn owl, which quickly took flight after Oliver finished tying his note on.

* * *

Derek woke early, breathing heavy once more, a nightmare plaguing his sleep, as they had been since Charlotte's accident.

"Damn it all," he muttered, laying under his covers for a few minutes, letting his heart beat return to normal once more.

Without much conviction, he got up and began to get ready for the day. He showered, shaved, pulled on some clothes, then went out to the kitchen to grab some food, which he ate without tasting it.

It had been two weeks. Two long, nearly sleepless, never-ending weeks. Two weeks without Charlotte. Two weeks without her smile, her wit, her love.

Derek sat reading the morning _Prophet_, bypassing the sports section completely, as he knew that most of the news was related to Charlotte and the new regulations that were being considered to be put into effect after what happened at the game.

The two Falcons Beaters had been put on permanent probation, which would begin immediately following their return to the League after a suspension that was to last for the rest of the season. A punishment, which, according to Derek, was too light. Of course, if he had it his way, he'd have them both put up in the air on brooms, unprotected, while he had target practice with a Beater's bat and some Bludgers.

Finding nothing in the news to his liking, he gave a heavy sigh and chucked the paper away from him, rubbing his forehead with his hand wearily. He was faced with another long day at St. Mungo's, waiting for Charlotte to make her next spontaneous movement, and getting his hopes up that today might be the day that she actually woke up.

There was a soft rapping noise on his window. Looking up, he saw a barn owl perched on the sill. Frowning, Derek crossed the room in a few strides and jerked the window open. The owl hopped inside, hooting in a serene way before sticking its leg out to Derek.

Derek reached out and detached the small bit of parchment from the owl's leg, hardly noticing as it turned around and took flight once more. He recognized the writing on the parchment. It was Oliver's.

He hastily unfolded it and held it up to read.

_Derek-_

_Get here now. She's awake._

_Oliver_

Derek didn't need twice telling. He grabbed his shoes and his jacket and without another look around, he Apparated off to the hospital, still clutching the note from Oliver in his hand.

* * *

"I'm going to go out of my mind."

"Stop being so negative. Of course you're not."

"I'm about to tear my hair out from lack of activity."

"Let's hope not. You'd be a sight without hair."

"Why can't I go for a short fly again?"

"You heard Healer Dobbs. No air time until you go back for your follow up appointment in two weeks."

"This is ridiculous. Do you seriously want me to lose my sanity?"

"Charlotte, at this point, you've got no other choice. Be bored, or do something stupid that could land you in St. Mungo's again."

"Right now, I think I like those odds."

"I guess I can't let you out of my sight, then."

"Mum!"

Charlotte gave a disgusted sigh and allowed herself to sink back further into the pillows propping her up on the couch. Rather than glare at her mother, she settled for glaring daggers at her fuzzy slippered feet.

"Charlie, I know you're bored. You remind me so much of your father right now that it's downright alarming. He was about out of his mind when he had to retire, remember?"

"Vividly," Charlotte groaned, feeling she was about to end up like Oliver.

"You just have to remember that you'll have something to return to once you're cleared. It just takes time."

"Right now, I wish those bastards would have just finished me off."

"You don't mean that, Charlie Wood," Hermione said sternly as she returned to the basket of clothes she was folding.

"Of course I don't. I just don't see why I can't go do something that won't hurt me, like a short fly around the yard, or even just around the beach! I haven't felt any real pain in two days, which is a bloody miracle, considering I was hit with two Bludgers and fell more than fifty feet through the air before making fast friends with the hard ground. I'm frustrated! I'm going crazy! And I don't have Quidditch to look forward to for another month!"

"Have you lost your temper again?" Belle asked, wandering into the room, clutching her beach towel around her.

"Hmph," Charlotte couldn't think of anything better to retort with.

"Just to put it in perspective for you, sister, you had a bloody lot of people sitting around your lifeless body for two weeks, not knowing if you were ever gonna wake up. So before you lose your temper on us, you might want to consider who was at your bedside for a very long two weeks," Belle reminded her before traipsing off to her bedroom.

"I hate when she's right," Charlotte grumbled sourly after thinking it over.

Hermione couldn't help but to grin a little. Belle may have only just finished her second year at Hogwarts, but for being almost thirteen years old, she was wise beyond her years sometimes. And there was nothing Charlotte hated more than being put in her place by her younger sister.

"What time is it?" Charlotte asked after a long silence.

"Nearly dinner time. Derek should be here shortly."

"Hmph."

Hermione looked up at her daughter, smiling in amusement as she resumed glaring daggers at her slippered feet. She thought it was funny that Charlotte couldn't bring herself to glare at Oliver or herself. But, at least Derek was bringing Charlotte some good news when he arrived. Hermione knew it would cheer her up immensely.

"Speak of the devil," Hermione remarked when Derek walked in with Oliver.

"The devil, eh?" Derek replied, leaning down to give Hermione a brief hug.

"The devil, the lad is. Nearly gave me a heart attack when he Apparated right outside the broom shed. Peace and quiet, then _crack!_" Oliver said ruefully.

"I swear I had no idea you were in there," Derek said, holding his hands up defensively.

"Jus' give us a heads-up the next time, will yeh, lad?"

"I'll be sure to remember. Now, how's the patient today?" Derek asked, striding over to Charlotte and leaning down to plant a kiss on top of her head.

"I'm about to lose my sanity, thanks," Charlotte grumbled, though she couldn't resist smiling at him.

"What sanity? Last time I checked, you had to be insane to be up in the air against a bunch of maniacal Quidditch buffs," Derek teased.

"Fair point. Well, let's say what sanity I have left is fast evaporating. All I want to do is to just take a short little fly around the yard or the beach. Just enough to feel the wind in my hair. And I can't even do that."

"Do you want to compromise what progress you've made?" Derek asked her sternly, reminding her forcibly of Oliver.

"No," she said quietly.

"Do you want to be able to play in the World Cup?"

"Yes, but-"

"Do you want to disappoint the boys when they find out you did something stupid to keep you from playing in the Cup?"

"No, but-"

"Then I don't want to hear anything more about it. You just have to suck it up and deal with it. Besides, it's just a month longer till it's back to the pitch for practice for the Cup, and once you get cleared, you can go back."

"That month is starting to look like a lifetime," Charlotte declared.

Derek ruffled her hair. "I've got something you can look forward to, though."

Charlotte's ears perked up. "Oh, really? And what would that be?"

Oliver and Hermione smiled at each other, glad to see a smile on Charlotte's face again. Charlotte noticed them grinning.

"You two are in on it? Why are you holding out on me?"

"Tomorrow's the last match, right?" Derek asked.

"Yeah, against the Cannons. Should be a laugh," Charlotte said happily.

"Well, you can have a laugh when the game's won, because we're going," Derek told her, grinning all the while.

"What? Really? I can go?" Charlotte cried, surprised.

The other three nodded.

"We got it cleared with Healer Dobbs. He said as long as you didn't seize upon the opportunity to grab a broomstick and join the team, you could go. But you're to take it easy and sit there, not act like a maniac," Hermione said, giving Charlotte a stern look.

"I'll do anything you want, just as long as I can get out of this house and go!"

They all laughed.

* * *

It had been awhile since Charlotte had been a part of the crowd of a Quidditch game. The highly charged atmosphere made her feel antsy and excited. It was almost like she was seven years old again, watching Oliver up in the air.

Derek couldn't help but grin at the look of unrestrained excitement on Charlotte's face. He was happy to see her smiling again. The two weeks she'd been home from St. Mungo's had been hell for her, and she could barely manage a ghost of a smile that whole time. Derek was glad that he had thought of the idea. It was worth spending nearly an hour hounding Healer Dobbs to get the clearance Charlotte needed to go.

"I'm glad we're here, Derek!" Charlotte said happily. "I don't know how you did it!"

Derek chuckled. "Let's just say that Healer Dobbs doesn't know what a Quidditch match can do to heal an aspiring Quidditch player."

Just then, the crowd gave a tumultuous roar as Puddlemere came soaring out onto the pitch. Charlotte clapped and screamed right along with the rest, feeling only a small twinge of regret that she wasn't up there with her boys.

"AND HERE TODAY TO HELP SUPPORT HER TEAM AS SHE RECUPERATES FROM HER INJURIES, PUDDLEMERE KEEPER CHARLOTTE WOOD! WE WISH YOU A SPEEDY RECOVERY, CHARLOTTE!" the commentator boomed.

The crowd around her went nuts again, and those sitting around her patted her on the back and wished her well. Charlotte thanked them all and felt that small twinge of regret go away. She knew this was for the best.

Charlotte was very surprised when she waved at her boys. Marc spotted her in the crowd and nudged the rest of the team. One by one, they flew very close over everyone's heads, giving Charlotte a high five before returning to the pitch. Though the crowd screamed, Charlotte could tell they were loving every minute of it.

Derek could tell Charlotte was perfectly content with being in the stands instead of up in the air, though he did notice she had a habit of shifting around in her seat, as though she was getting on her guard to block the incoming Chaser.

Charlotte caught sight of his face after doing this for the sixth time.

"What?" she asked rather indignantly.

He shook his head, laughing, and kissed her on the temple. "Nothing, absolutely nothing."

Charlotte had to admit, her reserve, Warren, wasn't that bad. Though he was still rather new, he had a style that was clearly his own, even if Charlotte herself would have done things differently if she was up in the air. He had a few close calls, though he had let in only three goals so far.

"Having fun?" Derek yelled in her ear over the noise of the crowd.

"Yes!"

Derek was beginning to think that the boys were spurred on by Charlotte's presence in the crowd. They were giving the game their all. The Cannons didn't know what hit them. The score was a laughable 440-30, and Ace and the boys didn't show any sign of letting up.

"You know, I think Callum's only holding off on the Snitch to see how many more goals we can get," Charlotte remarked, scanning the sky for the Snitch as Callum sailed by almost lazily overhead.

"I think you might be right," Derek yelled as Chase put another one through the goals at the other end of the pitch.

Ten more minutes of play had the game at 490-30. Charlotte decided that Callum was thoroughly bored up in the air, for it was then that he chose to go after the Snitch. He wove around the Cannons' Beaters and looped one of their Chasers. As graceful as a swan, he snagged the Snitch from where it was hovering near Marc's left foot.

"YES!" Charlotte screamed as she jumped up and down, all dignity forgotten.

"AND PUDDLEMERE'S GOING TO THE WORLD CUP! SUPERB WORK BY PUDDLEMERE'S CHASERS AND SEEKER GENTRY!"

Charlotte jumped into Derek's arms, hugging him soundly. "We did it! We're going to the Cup!"

Derek laughed as he wrapped his arms around her, spinning her around in place.

Charlotte felt as though they had won the Cup already. In that moment, she felt it was worth getting hurt, just so she could experience the euphoria of the crowd first hand. When she and Derek left the stands to meet the boys down at the lockers, Charlotte couldn't help but to run at them and hug every last one of them, even Turner.

Ace, all dignity forgotten, grabbed Charlotte up in a hug, yelling, "We're going to the Cup!"

Hands rained down on Charlotte, Derek and the boys as they all jumped up and down, celebrating.

Really, this was why Charlotte made Quidditch her living. To see all the people around them celebrating and happy, and to see the little kids beaming in awe at their Quidditch heroes made the risk worth it.

Photographers and reporters were everywhere. Flashes from cameras were going off every which way Charlotte turned. And for once, she didn't mind a bit.

This was one day of her life Charlotte wanted documented for the world to see.


	19. Chapter 18: The Quidditch World Cup

**Disclaimer: **If you're smarter than a baboon's backside, then you'll know this isn't mine.

**A.N.** And now, ladies and gents, the chapter you've all been anticipating: the Quidditch World Cup!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Chapter Eighteen**

If there was one thing that Charlotte hated most in the world, it was nerves. Yes, nerves and stress ranked right up there at the top, along with her bastard father. But Charlotte would much rather have the nerves and stress than her biological father, so in a way, it wasn't so bad.

"Who am I kidding?" Charlotte snorted as she stared up at the ceiling over her bed. "This is just about as bad as it gets."

It was a little after midnight, the night before the Cup. Charlotte had gone to bed nearly five hours earlier, hoping that her mind would stop racing long enough for her to get a decent night's rest for the biggest game of her life the following day. But her mind would not allow her the peace of sleep. She'd been laying there for hours, contemplating the awful things that could happen during the match. Though she'd been back in the air for a little over a month now, Charlotte often had to shove the little nagging fear that she'd be injured again to the back of her brain.

Tomorrow's match was already promising to be a fierce one. Puddlemere would be going up against Luxembourg, a team who was known for their superb offensive strategies and ceaseless goal scoring. Puddlemere had a strong front, but if Luxembourg played like they'd been playing all season, the match was going to be very close.

Still, Charlotte had never let the team down before. Sure, they'd lost three games in the regular season, but they were close calls, which of course made Charlotte feel worse, due to the fact that she felt she could have prevented the close final scores, but, she was, after all, human.

Charlotte heaved a great sigh. She needed to stop thinking of all the horrible scenarios and try to get some sleep. Her stomach rolled and heaved at every thought of the match, leaving her feeling slightly nauseous.

She sat up abruptly. This was never going to do if she was to play well tomorrow. To calm her queasy stomach, she decided to take a midnight stroll out to the beach and get some fresh air. Hopefully the air would help to calm her into a peaceful state, enough for sleeping.

The sweet summer air filled her lungs as she quietly crept from the cottage. It was such a beautiful night; the moon, half full, left lingering shadows in the small wood as she crossed through it. The night creatures called out their haunting melodies as she emerged from the trees onto the sandy beach.

The splashing of the waves murmured a quiet lullaby to Charlotte as she planted herself in the sand a few feet away from the edge of the water. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin atop them, breathing the night air deeply.

Charlotte didn't know how long she sat there, nor did she know how long she'd been sitting in a half-awake daze, but the sudden presence of a hand on her shoulder made her jump from the sand, swearing slightly. She came face to face with Oliver.

"Lass, wha' the devil are yeh doin' out here so late?"

Charlotte felt bad. He clearly had been in a deep slumber not moments before, rudely awoken for whatever reason.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I couldn't sleep. I needed some fresh air to calm my queasy stomach," Charlotte apologized sheepishly.

Oliver gave a sleepy chuckle. "Ah, feelin' the pressure now, are yeh, lass?"

"Horribly," Charlotte confessed, feeling her racing heart slowly return to normal after being scared senseless.

"It's gonna be all right, yer gonna do fine tomorrow, I know yeh will," Oliver reassured her, pulling her close and wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders as they slowly walked back up the beach.

"I hope you're right, Dad. I don't want to disappoint Ace, or you, or, hell, half the Quidditch world that's rooting for us."

"'S long as yeh play yer best and hardest, there willna be a person alive who can fault yeh for it. Tha's the most anyone can ask of yeh, am I no' right?"

"Yeah, you're right. You know how I am," Charlotte muttered, feeling stupid.

"Dinna feel stupid, lass. I felt the exact same way my first Cup. It was brutal hell, it was," Oliver laughed at the memory of it all.

"Did you win?" Charlotte knew the answer, but loved to hear him reminisce about the old days.

"Yeh best believe we did!" Oliver declared, half indignant that someone would think his beloved Puddlemere didn't win a World Cup.

They walked the rest of the way back to the cottage in sleepy silence, Charlotte finally calmed down enough to get some sleep.

"Dad, how did you know where I was at?" Charlotte asked suddenly as they neared the cottage door.

"Yer mum always has a keen sense of when one of her bonny daughters is somewhere she shouldn't be," Oliver replied, stifling a yawn and rumpling his hair.

Charlotte shook her head at the thought. She would just have to accept it was one of those crazy maternal instincts that came with having your own children.

"G'night, Dad," Charlotte whispered as she slipped into her room.

Oliver grunted in reply and slouched off down the hall, clearly intent on getting back to sleep.

Charlotte climbed back into bed, feeling a little more at peace with herself than she'd been earlier. She fluffed up her pillows and yanked her sheet up to her chin, snuggling down to get comfortable. With an exhausted sigh, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, where tantalizing dreams of winning the Quidditch World Cup chased her for the rest of the night.

* * *

Derek awoke bright and early the morning of the Cup. He had slept lightly throughout the night, seeming to jerk awake with a new thought of something he had to make sure to do that day. Mostly though, he thought of Charlotte.

He had spent a good chunk of yesterday morning with her, trying to quell her anxiousness and her nerves. She had been a right basket case when he arrived, though she appeared to have calmed down tremendously by the time he had left her to take care of stuff at the office.

He stretched lazily and rumpled his hair so it stood on end. He wondered for a fleeting moment what Charlotte would say if he started to spike his hair till it stood absolutely straight. Then he laughed at himself. He highly doubted that Charlotte would give a rat's ass about anything other than the game today.

The sun was streaming through his window as he gave a huge yawn. He started to go over the plan for the day. He had to go into the office again today before anything else. Then the rest of his day was to be focused on getting Charlotte to calm down, then getting her to the pitch, then coaxing her out of puking her guts up from nerves, then actually getting her onto her broom and out onto the pitch.

He sighed. He hoped he wouldn't find another basket case at the cottage when he arrived there in a few hours.

* * *

Charlotte was sitting up in her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, face deathly pale and eyes wide and staring at the wall in front of her when Belle walked in to check on her.

"Charlie? You anywhere close?" Belle asked cautiously, momentarily fearing for her older sister's sanity.

Charlotte nodded her head slowly, not wanting to open her mouth.

"Whatsa matter, sis? Cat got your tongue?" Belle teased playfully as she climbed onto the bed with Charlotte.

Charlotte glared at her for a moment, then managed a weak smile. "Nerves."

Belle clucked her tongue and rubbed her sister's shoulder soothingly. "You're gonna smash Luxembourg to pieces, I know it. And you know how I know it? Because you're the best bloody Keeper that Puddlemere's had since Dad, and I know all the rest of the guys would rather be fed to a rampaging manticore than lose the Quidditch World Cup. You guys are going to be on form and play like you've never played before. And you know as soon as you get up in the air later, you're gonna leave all your fear and nerves behind, and then you're gonna make sure that none of those Luxembourg idiots can score on your watch. Got that?"

Charlotte couldn't help but grin at her little sister. Belle was an awesome pep-talker. She ruefully wondered what Ace would say if she suggest that Belle take over for him in the usual pre-game babble.

Charlotte gave Belle a tight hug, then threw her covers off. "Let's go see if I can't manage some breakfast down on this queasy stomach."

Belle beamed at her. "That's the ticket! Fight back at it!"

Oliver was, as usual, sitting at the table, his nose buried in the sports section of the _Prophet_, his usual morning cup right at his elbow. Hermione was busying herself with breakfast, like always. Charlotte couldn't keep from smiling at the familiar scene before her. It helped to make her feel more grounded. No matter what happened at the match later today, she'd always have this to fall back on.

"Good morning!" she said happily, her grin still in place.

"How's our favorite Keeper this morning?" Hermione asked as she set a glass of orange juice down in front of her.

"Well, up until the point when Belle walked in to give me a pep talk, I thought I was going to die, but now I think I'm a little better," Charlotte replied lightly before taking a sip of her juice.

"_Prophet's_ got good odds on yeh for today, lass," Oliver informed her from behind his paper.

"Excellent."

"When do you have to be at the pitch?" Hermione asked again as she set down a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of Charlotte.

"Derek's coming to get me at two o'clock, then we're to be at the pitch at two thirty. Ace is gonna be long winded for about an hour or so, then we get to practice for an hour before giving the pitch over to Luxembourg. Game time is at seven," Charlotte rattled off around bites of egg and bacon.

"And we have to be at the pitch at what time?" Hermione was worried about the details.

"You, Dad and Belle can get there any time after four. Since you're priority seating, meaning you'll be up in the box with the commentator and all the important people, you'll be seated last. Which isn't a bad thing, as everyone else will be out of your way. Free and clear," Charlotte said happily.

"Are you still nervous?" Belle asked as she chewed up her bacon.

Charlotte took another sip of her orange juice. "Yeah, but like you said, I think I'll be okay once I get up in the air and can play my game."

"Tha's the ticket, lass, tha's the ticket," Oliver said encouragingly.

Charlotte managed to get down all of her breakfast, and after polishing off the last of her orange juice, she leaned back in her chair with a small sigh.

"Feel better?" Belle asked.

"A lot better, actually. I think I'll go take a shower," she said, taking her dishes to the sink and setting them to cleaning with her wand.

Charlotte thought about the game as she washed her hair. Sure, she was still scared senseless that she'd do something stupid to screw it all up for them (and endure Ace's wrath for it, no less), but really, what Belle had said earlier made sense. As long as she played her hardest and did her best to Keep her goals, then there was no reason to be disappointed about losing, and absolutely no reason at all to beat herself up over it.

As she rinsed her hair, she wondered how the boys were doing this morning. Ace and Turner were the sure ones to try to play it cool and act nonchalant, but Charlotte knew them too well by now to know that they were trembling in their Quidditch boots on the inside. Marc would surely seem extra intimidating and all the more larger than he normally was, but that was how he dealt with his nerves. Make himself appear ferocious and menacing, then scare the pants off the opposition. Pietro would be extra hyper, but that was no surprise at all. Pietro was, well, Pietro. Chase would probably be a little more quiet than usual, most likely losing some of his sarcasm and not dropping his one-liners like he usually would. Charlotte hoped that wouldn't be the case, as Chase was, more often than not, the one who made the team lighten up and stop being so jittery. The only one Charlotte was sure to remain the same was Callum. But Callum was such an easy-going, carefree guy that it would be no surprise at all that he would be able to just let a silly little thing like the Quidditch World Cup roll off his shoulders like it was nothing.

Feeling much more refreshed after her shower, Charlotte dug out the old duffel bag and started to throw her gear into it. At the beginning of the season, her gear was new and unused looking. Now, heading into the World Cup, her gear was dirty, beaten, and worn. Charlotte smiled at that. All her things fit like an old glove now. It made her feel like Quidditch really was her calling in life. At the beginning of the season, when her things were new and a little uncomfortable, it reinforced Charlotte's uncertainty that she had really chosen the right path to follow in her life.

Charlotte glanced at her clock. It was a little after noon. She still had two long hours to wait until Derek showed up to get her. Sighing, she zipped up her duffel bag and went to seek out Oliver, hoping to coax some more stories of his Quidditch days out of him.

* * *

Derek walked into the office like a man on a mission. Which was true, he was on a mission to get in, get out, and get to Charlotte in as little time as possible. He was only there to make sure that the right papers were signed for Charlotte for next season to keep her on the contract. Which meant that he had to talk to his boss.

Everyone seemed to want to talk to him this morning, probably because he was the only one in the office at the moment who had a player in the World Cup. But Derek didn't want anything to do with them. He had to go talk to the asshole, otherwise known as his boss, which basically translated to Derek being fed the song and dance over everything in the contract, and blah, blah, blah. Derek could feel his blood pressure spike already.

"Derek, old chap, big day today!"

Derek threw a casual glance at the man speaking to him. He was short, a little balding, and enormously pompous. Deciding against the urge to throttle the man, Derek gave him a tight smile.

"Yeah, Tiegs, it's gonna be a big day. Say, you wouldn't happen to know if Norton's in his office, would you?"

Tiegs seemed to deflate a little. He caught on that Derek didn't want to talk to him any longer than he had to. "Yeah, I think Norton's in. Why?"

"Business," Derek said simply before continuing to the boss's office at the back of the larger office space.

Derek adjusted his clothing before knocking. After all, presentation was everything.

"Enter," came the reply.

Derek plastered a smile on his face before opening the door.

"Mr. Norton," he greeted, offering his hand.

"Ah, yes, young Mr. Malfoy. Take a seat, take a seat," Norton said jovially, shaking his hand and indicating that Derek should sit down.

"Thank you, sir. As I'm on a tight schedule today, I really would like to take care of Charlotte Wood's papers as soon as poss-"

"Can I offer you a drink, my boy?" Norton interrupted him, seeming not to have heard a word Derek had just said.

"No, thank you, sir," Derek said politely, though his patience was strained. "Sir, really, I need to make sure that you've signed Charlotte Wood's papers for next season, as they're due to the International today, and I was rather hoping to take care of that today while at the World Cup, as all the right people will be there for me to speak with."

Norton gave a small grunt as he took a hearty drink from his brandy snifter, shuffling through the massive piles of files on his desk.

"Charlotte Wood, you say?"

"Yes, sir. The sooner you can give the papers to me signed, the faster I can get out of her. I really am on a tight schedule sir," Derek said again.

"Yes, yes, yes. Give me a moment, my boy. You know my job's not an easy one."

Derek could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Yes, sir."

Norton continued to riffle through his files, looking for Charlotte's. "When did you give her file to me, Malfoy?"

Derek managed to contain his sigh. "Two weeks ago, sir."

"Hmmm. Let me see here. . ."

"Sir, would you like some help?"

"No, no, no. I'm sure it's around here somewhere. . ."

Derek sat back in his chair, checking his watch every few minutes. He told Charlotte he'd drop by at two o'clock to take her to the pitch, and he was now down to fifteen minutes to get there.

"Wood, Wood, Wood," Norton was muttering to himself as he continued to scour his desk for her file. "Where could the damn thing have gone?"

"Sir, really, it's imperative that you find that file, those are the only copies I have of her material, and there's simply not enough time before this evening to make new ones," Derek said in the most respectful tone he could manage.

"Calm down, Malfoy! I know it's around here somewhere, give me a minute!" Norton barked.

It took every ounce of self control for Derek to not jump from his chair and tear Norton's desk apart. He did, however, come up with a clever idea. He whipped out his wand.

"_Accio_ Charlotte Wood's file!"

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea, as all the files on top of Charlotte's went tumbling off the desk, leaving a massive pile of papers scattered on the floor. Norton glared at Derek, who looked back at him triumphantly, file clutched in hand.

"Here it is," Derek said rather cheekily. He opened the file to find that (surprise, surprise) Norton had not signed it yet. "Sir, if you could just sign this now, that would be wonderful."

Norton jerked the file from Derek's grasp and yanked a quill out to scribble his signature on the top piece of paper in the file.

"Thanks very much, Mr. Norton, sir," Derek said as he took the file back.

Derek left Norton's office in a hurry, as the man looked as though he wanted nothing better than to throttle Derek in that moment.

"Get what you needed?" Tiegs asked as Derek breezed past him.

"Yes. I'll catch you all later," Derek said hurriedly as he left the office to catch the nearest lift back up to the Atrium in the Ministry.

Derek stuffed the file away in his jacket as he emerged from the lift, walking quickly to the designated Apparition point set up so that he could leave for the cottage. Glancing at his watch one last time to see he had just one minute left until two o'clock, Derek took a deep breath and disappeared with a small _pop._

* * *

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

"No, you're not."

"I'm pretty sure it's gonna happen."

"No, it's not."

"Tell that to my stomach."

"Stop worrying so much."

"That's impossible."

"No, it's not."

"This is me we're talking about, remember?"

"Yeah, and I know that you're strong enough to deal with this. What are you so worried about anyway?"

"This is the Quidditch World Cup. Did you forget that?"

"No. What's your point?"

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Not exactly. Care to fill me in?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "You may be representing one of the biggest names in Quidditch right now, but you're still painfully clueless as to just how big a deal this game really is."

"The game in general? Or you mean the World Cup itself?"

"The World Cup!" Charlotte cried almost hysterically.

Derek winced. "Okay, you really need to calm down. I don't think Ace is gonna like having an extremely emotional, hyperventilating girl on his hands."

Charlotte huffed irritably as she and Derek walked through the maze of corridors inside the newly erected stadium for the match. The place was enormous; they'd already been walking through corridor after corridor for almost ten minutes.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Charlotte asked after they walked past what seemed like the same picture of the Luxembourg national team they had passed five minutes ago.

"I have a general idea," Derek said shortly.

At long last, they finally found the right locker room. And it was just in the nick of time, as Ace was pacing in front of the rest of the guys, clearly ready to give his long winded spiel on how important today's game was.

"Well, now that we're all here," Ace began, giving Charlotte a rather annoyed look.

She just rolled her eyes and settled back against one of the lockers to listen, or at least pretend to listen to Ace as he talked himself stupid.

* * *

"Oh my. These stadiums they build never cease to amaze me."

"I think they get bigger and better every year, Mum."

"Yer just easily satisfied."

Hermione and Belle rolled their eyes at Oliver.

"Dad, you haven't been to a World Cup since you last played in one. What are you talking about?" Belle asked teasingly.

"Has it really been tha' long? Damn," Oliver cursed, thinking back to the last time he'd been present at a World Cup.

"Mum, did you ever go to a World Cup when you were younger?"

Hermione smiled in spite of the bittersweet memory. "Yes. I went with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and the rest of the Weasley clan."

Oliver watched his wife's face carefully. She was still rather touchy when it came to talking about the boys.

"I remember tha', lass. Remember, I was there too, I saw you with the other two," Oliver said gently.

Hermione smiled as the memory suddenly came to light in her mind. "I do remember that. It was right after you had graduated Hogwarts and right after you signed with Puddlemere's reserve team, wasn't it?"

Oliver smiled proudly. "And I couldna wait to tell Harry about it."

Hermione laughed. "You were so crazy about the game back then. You probably didn't even give me a second glance, did you?"

Oliver grinned ruefully. "I had no idea my future wife was standin' right in front of me in tha' moment, if tha's what yer askin'."

Belle laughed at her parents. "I still think it's crazy how you two ended up together."

"So do we," Hermione said, laughing lightly. "Now, I think we need to go find our seats, game time is in less than a half hour."

"Lead on, Dad, lead on," Belle joked, giving her father a pointed look.

Oliver took hold of their hands, squeezing them tightly as he led the way into the maze of staircases and corridors leading to the thousands of seats in the stadium. He was ready for a good match, there was no mistaking it.

* * *

"AND PUDDLEMERE'S IN POSSESSION AS WE APPROACH THE THIRD HOUR OF INTENSE PLAY!" the commentator screamed.

Charlotte hovered in front of her hoops, screaming herself hoarse as Pietro took off down the pitch. It hardly felt to her that they'd been playing for three hours, but when she looked at the score, it was a stark contrast to exactly how long she felt she'd been playing.

Puddlemere was slightly behind Luxembourg in that moment. The score was a close 360-340, and it looked as though Pietro was setting himself up to score again.

He pitched the Quaffle to Chase as he came soaring up from underneath one of Luxembourg's Chasers. Chase took hold of it and wove through the tangle of players, looking to Pietro to get it through the hoop.

Pietro came from the side and took the Quaffle from Chase and lobbed it through the hoop, scoring yet again.

"PUDDLEMERE SCORES YET AGAIN! AND IT'S 360-350, LUXEMBOURG HOLDING ONTO THE LEAD BY A THREAD! GREAT GOAL BY PUDDLEMERE CHASER GONZALEZ!"

Charlotte got on her guard as one of the opposing Chasers came soaring at her. They were not going to score again, there was no way she was going to let that happen.

The Chaser feinted to the left but threw for the right. Charlotte read his movements perfectly and shot forward to grab the Quaffle from its path to the hoops. She tossed it back into play and Ace took hold of it, grinning at her as he ducked down low on his broom to scatter the tangle of players in front of him.

"NICE SAVE BY PUDDLEMERE KEEPER CHARLOTTE WOOD! STILL 360-350, LUXEMBOURG IN THE LEAD, BUT HOW LONG CAN THEY HANG ON TO IT?"

Charlotte took a moment to glance up at the Top Box where she knew her parents, sister, and Derek were watching the game. She saw Belle leaning on the edge of the Box and waved. Belle waved back eagerly, grinning with excitement.

"PUDDLEMERE SCORES AGAIN AS CHASER ACE HARRISON PUTS IT THROUGH LUXEMBOURG'S CENTER HOOP! AND IT'S NOW 360-360, TIED UP!"

Charlotte heard a groan rise from the crowd and quickly turned back to the action. It appeared that Turner had just smacked a Bludger at the Luxembourg Chaser who had just come into possession of the Quaffle. He dropped it in favor of grabbing onto his broom to keep from falling off, and the Quaffle was picked from the air by Chase, who took off for the short trip back to Luxembourg's goals.

"Go Chase, go," Charlotte muttered under her breath, clutching her broom tightly in anticipation of another Puddlemere goal.

She and the crowd were not disappointed. Chase scored again, and it was now Puddlemere's game. If Callum could just find the Snitch, the game would be over, and Puddlemere would have the World Cup sealed once more.

A half hour later, the Snitch was still elusive to Callum, although Puddlemere was still in the lead, 460-430. Charlotte was getting anxious. She was starting to feel fatigued, and she could tell the guys were feeling it too. The game was getting close to entering into the fourth hour of play, and unless the Snitch was caught soon, this game was going into the wee hours of the morning. It was nearly eleven o'clock as it was.

Suddenly, the crowd gasped. Charlotte saw Callum streak down from high above, intent on a little blur of gold as it flitted through the mass of players. Luxembourg's Seeker was hot on Callum's tail as he wove carefully around the players, following that little golden Snitch.

Charlotte focused quickly on the approaching Luxembourg Chaser, blocking his attempt at another goal and throwing it to Pietro, who caught it and took off up the pitch, hoping to score again before Callum caught the Snitch.

Charlotte grew dizzy trying to focus on both Pietro and Callum. Callum was merely a blue blur as he followed the Snitch closely. She grew anxious when the two Seekers got dangerously close to the grassy stretch of pitch below them. Without realizing it, her hands went to her mouth as Callum stretched out a steady hand for the Snitch.

The crowd had gone completely silent, watching the struggle between the two Seekers to grab the Snitch. Time had slowed remarkably. It seemed to Charlotte that Callum's hand closed at an agonizingly slow speed around the small Snitch.

It took about a second for the capture to sink into the crowd, and then, the stadium exploded. Charlotte felt her heart resume its beating, and then she was speeding toward the rest of the team, blinded by her tears of extreme happiness and pride.

They all slammed in on each other at the same time, yelling, screaming, cheering themselves hoarse. Ace was beside himself. She had never seen him lose that oily persona for a second, but here he was, a look of complete pride on his face as he hugged each and every one of them.

Callum flew up to join them and was mobbed by the tangle of arms and legs of Puddlemere's World Cup team. The Snitch was still clutched in his hand, though it had slowed its struggle to free itself. Callum looked completely content and happy. He was just glad to be doing his job and sealing another victory for his team. As he held up the hand clutching the Snitch for the crowd to see, the volume of the stadium seemed to grow all the more louder.

They sank slowly back toward the earth, still yelling and cheering madly, waving at the crazy crowd. The Puddlemere anthem blared at them from all sides, pennants, banners, signs all waved back at them. Charlotte had never felt more alive.

And then there were their families, all running toward them to congratulate them. Charlotte dismounted her broom and ran like a little girl toward her mother, father, sister and boyfriend. She dropped her broom and jumped into Derek's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him soundly as Hermione, Oliver and Belle converged on them, patting them on the shoulders and yelling happily.

Charlotte pulled back to look at Derek's face. His eyes snapped in total pride and happiness as he looked at her. They both grinned at one another for the longest moment. Then Derek spoke.

"Marry me, Charlotte Wood."

"Yes," she said breathlessly, kissing him again as Hermione and Oliver beamed at each other.

In that moment, Charlotte had never felt more happy or complete in her life.

It was a wonderful feeling.


	20. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **gives impatient sniff Seriously, I'm not answering that. . .

**A.N.** Well guys, this is it. The end of the line. With this epilogue, the story of Charlotte, Derek, Hermione, Oliver and Belle will be finished. I thought about continuing the story with Charlotte and Derek's life together, but really, I think this will satisfy their story. I'll leave the rest to your imaginations. Thanks for all the reviews and support! You guys rock!

**Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?**

**Epilogue**

Charlotte looked down at her ring and smiled as the it captured the light and sparkled. She had just a half hour left until she became Mrs. Derek Malfoy. The thought was both terrifying and comforting.

Hermione was fussing around with Charlotte's veil. Charlotte knew that her mother was really just fussing with everything she could get her hands on so she wouldn't start crying. Hermione was being very emotional about the whole affair. She'd be losing her first baby, the baby she had fought so fiercely to protect against her own father.

Charlotte had sat Hermione down in the beginning and had a long talk with her. She knew that her mother would take her impending marriage rather hard because of their past. Charlotte explained to her the best that she could that there was no way Hermione would ever lose her, no matter what happened. Charlotte would drag Derek over every Sunday for dinner if it made Hermione happy, and if Derek didn't object, they'd come for every holiday too. She grasped her mother's hand tightly in her own, her engagement ring sparkling in the light as Charlotte reassured Hermione that she'd always be her little girl, no matter how old she was and how many kids or wrinkles she had.

That made Hermione laugh, and Charlotte was able to breathe freely again. She'd been so worried about her mother right from the beginning, almost as soon as she'd said yes to Derek's proposal.

But no matter. There was no going back, and Charlotte wasn't about to. She knew the love of her life was going to be waiting at the edge of the orchard just outside the Burrow, where their vows were to be exchanged out in the warm spring air in just under a half hour.

"Oh, Charlie, you look amazing!"

She turned to see her best friend and maid of honor, Aeryn, grinning at her, tears swimming in her eyes. Charlotte gave a happy sort of squeal and rushed to embrace her friend in a warm hug.

"I can't believe this is happening, Aeryn! It seems like he just proposed to me!"

In a typical girly moment, both girls gave happy shrieks of delight and hugged each other again.

Ginny Weasley stood off to the side with Hermione, smiling at her goddaughter.

"She looks beautiful, Herms," Ginny declared in a whisper.

Hermione gave a sniff and dabbed at her nose with a white handkerchief. "I know."

Ginny put a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Hey, don't start that. You'll get me going, too."

Hermione gave her a bit of a watery smile and looked back to her daughter, who was spinning slowly on the spot to show off her dress to her admirers. It was a beautiful dress, all lace and satin with pearly buttons marching in a straight line up the bodice, which was mostly made of lace. The dress was a bit old fashioned looking and had sleeves embroidered with more lace that stopped just short of Charlotte's elbows. The train of the dress trailed out a foot and a half behind her. Her veil was attached to a simple crown made of shimmery pearls and fell to just below her waist.

Hermione heard the music begin to play outside and knew it was time. With a hearty sniff to quell the tears for a moment, she stepped toward her daughter.

"It's time, Charlie."

Perhaps it was her mother's tone of voice, or the fact that her eyes were still shiny with tears that she refused to shed, but Charlotte suddenly felt her throat constrict and her eyes burn with tears.

"None of that, now," Hermione whispered as she helped Charlotte into the kitchen, where Oliver was waiting for her, his eyes unnaturally bright as well.

He smiled when he saw her. "Yeh look beautiful, my bonny lass," he said gruffly, hugging her tightly for a moment before Hermione was shaking him away, scolding him for putting imaginary wrinkles into the dress.

He looked down at her. "Are yeh ready, lass?"

Charlotte looked out the open door and down the path leading to the orchard, where she could just make out Derek's tall form standing with the Ministry official who would preside over the vows.

She nodded. "Let's go get married!"

Laughter chased the two out the door as Oliver guided his girl down the path to her love. He felt a slight tremor run through the arm he was holding as they came nearer. He willed himself to stay passive and not to cry.

Derek felt the breath in his lungs vanish as he watched Charlotte approach on Oliver's arm. She was so goddamn beautiful in that moment; the faint spring sunlight was starting to disappear, casting pretty pinks, oranges and golds on his bride, who was smiling shyly but resolutely at him as she approached.

Charlotte felt her heart flutter anxiously as Oliver let go of her arm and lifted her veil to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. She felt a swirl of emotions engulf her; sadness, a touch of anguish, happiness and anxiousness all flooded her system at once. But when she turned to face Derek to begin the ceremony, one emotion stood out above all: love.

The Ministry official spoke of love and commitment, happiness and joy, years spent growing old together in sickness and in health. Charlotte heard none of it. What the official was saying and what she felt in her heart didn't match. There was no way she could put what she was feeling into words. But Derek seemed to understand; he could see the emotion in her eyes as he gazed into them, smiling softly at her.

The official looked to Derek. "Do you have the ring?"

"I do." Derek pulled the simple silver band from his pocket and slid it onto Charlotte's finger to accompany her engagement ring.

Charlotte felt a slight tingle rush up her finger once the ring was in place. She knew it was all apart of the magic of the ceremony.

The official then turned to her. "And do you have his ring?"

"I do." Charlotte turned to Aeryn, who held out the simple silver band with its complicated etchings.

She slid it onto his finger, noting her slightly trembling hands as she did so. It was her nerves again, as always.

"Clasp hands, if you would," the official commanded.

Derek took hold of Charlotte's left hand with his own left hand. The official pulled out his wand and touched their hands with it while muttering a complicated charm. A thing golden cord spread from his wand and knotted itself around their hands, binding them together.

"This golden cord represents the commitment and love you two have for each other. So long as you remain faithful to one another, the cord cannot be broken. You shall remain united for a lifetime," the official declared, and lifted his wand.

The golden cord remained wrapped around their hands for a few seconds longer, then slowly faded into nothing.

"I am happy to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Derek Malfoy. Sir, you may kiss your bride."

Derek stepped forward, grinning ear to ear. Without much pretense, he pulled Charlotte to him and planted such a fierce and passionate kiss on her that she was left breathless and the crowd watching was laughing happily.

Derek allowed Charlotte to step back, but kept a tight hold on her hand. She smiled happily up at him, all her emotions laid out for him to see.

Together, the two walked back down the aisle toward the tent sent up in the Weasleys' side yard. Charlotte's boys all yelled and wolf-whistled as she and Derek made their way past, leaving Charlotte bright red and embarrassed, and Derek grinning proudly.

As the two danced their first dance together, Charlotte laid her head on Derek's shoulder, sighing in complete contentment. She had no idea where this road she had chosen was going to take her, but hell, as long as she had Derek to travel it with, she'd go anywhere on it.

* * *

**Hey guys, if you're looking for an interesting read, be on the lookout for a new story of mine, coming soon! It'll be a Hermione/Sirius pairing, but I'm still working on the general outline. . .hopefully within a week or so I'll have it up!**


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